


Baphomet I

by ptyx



Series: Baphomet [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-11
Updated: 2003-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:43:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptyx/pseuds/ptyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumbledore orders Harry and Snape to decipher Slytherin's Manuscript, but Harry doesn't trust Dumbledore anymore. Will Harry and Snape finally get along? And what does the Grail have to do with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Slytherin and the Parselmouth

**Author's Note:**

> Some quotes by William Blake. Some passages were inspired by Mallarmé's "Ix Sonnet" and by texts by Aleister Crowley, the Great Beast 666.
> 
> The story is set in Harry's sixth year.
> 
> Translated into English by Morgan D, and betaed by Teka Lynn.

**BAPHOMET I - The Lion, the Serpent and the Grail**

_Till the villain left the paths of ease,  
To walk in perilous paths, and drive  
The just man into barren climes._

_Now the seeking serpent walks  
In mild humility,  
And the just man rages in the wilds  
Where lions roam._

(William Blake, **The Marriage of Heaven and Hell**)

**CHAPTER 1 - The Slytherin and the Parselmouth**

It was the first day of classes at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore had summoned him to his office. He probably wanted to schedule those blasted Occlumency classes. Harry couldn't decide what would be worse: Dumbledore wanting him to take classes from Snape again, or teaching him himself. At this point, Harry hated them both deeply.

Close to the entrance, he saw the dark silhouette of the potions master, twice as ugly as the gargoyle.

"Potter! What are you doing here?"

"The Headmaster sent for me."

With a suspicious look, Snape faced this student he hated so much, before saying, "Boysenberry smoothie!"

The gargoyle moved away, the wall opened and the spiralling staircase raised them to the office door, which opened immediately.

"Severus, Harry, come in!" said the Headmaster with the usual twinkle in his eyes. "Sit down and join me for tea."

Harry couldn't believe it. The previous year, Dumbledore had simply abandoned him to his own fate. And at the end of the last term, after one of the most dreadful moments in Harry's life, when he had witnessed the death of his godfather, the Headmaster finally revealed what he should have disclosed years before and gave him an absolutely hypocritical lecture. Now Dumbledore assumed the role of Father Christmas once more. That was unbearable.

Teacher and student sat down, facing each other with the deepest hatred, while Dumbledore poured them tea.

"Headmaster, I don't know what you have in mind, but you'd better speak at once. Madam Pomfrey asked me to brew her a potion and..."

"I'm sure the task will prove much easier if you take the time to relax a little and have your tea in peace," said Dumbledore. "Very well, my boys. I called you here to ask you a favour."

Harry almost choked on his tea. Snape made a horrible face.

"One of the spies for the Order," the Headmaster winked at Snape, "recently brought me something that was in the hands of a Death Eater and that might have inestimable value in our war against Voldemort: a manuscript by Salazar Slytherin. However, this manuscript is composed in an unintelligible code, at least to my eyes... Anyway. I'm almost positive that this mysterious code is the written version of Parseltongue. And, as you're surely aware, we only know two living Parselmouths today. One of them, obviously, won't help us."

Snape shook his head, in a gesture of impatience.

"But the other one is right here before us, and could aid our dear Head of Slytherin, who has studied Salazar's ideas thoroughly, in the task of deciphering this highly important document." The Headmaster looked from Harry to Snape, and back to Harry. "So, my boys, what do you say?"

Snape narrowed his eyes, then took a deep breath. Harry waited for him to say something, to snarl that he wouldn't accept working with an arrogant brat. But, as Snape seemed to be paralysed in shock. Harry had to make his move. "Er, Headmaster, it's just that... I don't understand written Parseltongue, I can only speak it!"

"One more reason for the two of you to work as a team. Not only does Severus understand many languages, but he also knows Magic-Generative Linguistics. I'm sure you'll wind up deciphering the code."

"Headmaster, you know I have never refused you a favour. But this student is extremely irresponsible and betrayed my trust irreparably. I cannot work with him."

"And I don't want to work with the one responsible for my godfather's death!"

"What? Have you gone mad, Potter? If I hadn't alerted the Order, you'd probably be dead now. I'm not to be blamed if your asinine godfather..."

"Severus, Harry, please. Calm down," said Dumbledore sharply. "I know it's hard for you both, but it's a very important job for the Order, and only the two of you can do it."

"The Headmaster will agree that, as the Head of Slytherin, potions master, member of the Order of the Phoenix, the Headmaster's Lefthand Man and... You-Know-Very-Well-What-Else, there's hardly any time left in my schedule to fit this new task."

"In order not to get in the way of your other tasks, you could take out only one night a week for that. And you can work in Severus' office, or in the Potions classroom, if you prefer. Harry will tell his classmates that he's in need of remedial Potions..."

"Again? Oh no!"

"Potter, respect the Headmaster!"

Harry made a face of disgust.

"You see, Headmaster? This boy is much too arrogant, doesn't have respect for anyone, it's impossible to work with him."

"Severus, Harry... We shall make a deal. If you do this for me, you can be relieved of the Occlumency lessons. I'll be in charge of teaching Harry Occlumency myself."

~*~

"Ah, Potter. Come in and close the door."

Harry acquiesced, entering the teacher's office without a word. Snape indicated the chair before the mahogany desk behind which he was sitting. "Sit down. Here's Slytherin's Manuscript."

Harry glanced at the sombre walls, full of glass vessels with abominable contents. In a corner, a scrying mirror, similar to the one Harry had seen in his Divination book. What was Snape doing with a mirror like that? Harry sat down and took the voluminous roll of parchment, which was covered with incomprehensible scribbling.

"You really expect me to read this crap?"

"Watch your language!" Snape sighed. "Potter, focus. I know it's too much to ask from your hollow brain, but..."

"Listen, if you're going to keep insulting me..."

"Potter!"

Harry lowered his head. This wouldn't work out.

Snape pulled at his oily hair with his hands. "Try to read what's written here aloud."

Harry raised his head again and held the parchment before him. "But I don't know what these scrawls are supposed to sound like. Are there letters?"

"From my analysis, it's a code of double articulation, in which a signified is attributed to a corresponding signifier, just as in human languages."

"Oh, okay. That simple, huh?"

Snape stared at the ceiling. "I will try to descend to your level, even knowing it won't be easy... I'm saying that each symbol is associated with a sound. Only we don't know what sound is associated with which symbol!"

"So how am I supposed to read it?"

"I told you, _that_ is your problem. If it were easy, the Headmaster wouldn't have told us to do it."

"Why don't you ask a snake to read it?"

Snape was about to give one of his devastating replies, but something stopped him. He narrowed his eyes, as if in maximum concentration. He took his wand from his cloak and pointed it to his other arm. "Serpensortia!"

A little golden snake, about twelve inches long, appeared, coiled around his left wrist.

"Cute!" Harry exclaimed. "It's a boa constrictor."

Reluctantly, the teacher handed the boa to Harry, who held it on the palm of his hand and started talking to it. Snape observed them closely. In his eyes there was a glint of... envy?

"Her name is Ceci."

"Ask her if she can read the Manuscript."

Harry talked to Ceci for quite some time, showed her the Manuscript and kept on talking. Snape, who couldn't understand a word, was about to lose his patience. Finally, Harry turned to him. "She can't read, and thought it was really funny that you would think a snake could read."

"That's not funny. Quit chatting with that snake, I can tell it's useless."

"She's afraid you'll get rid of her, since she can't help."

Snape sighed. "Give me that snake back and quit this nonsensical talk," said Snape, taking the boa constrictor from Harry's arm.

Then something rather curious occurred. Snape petted the tiny boa's scaly skin with an expression of... tenderness?

Harry faced him with the classic 'who are you and what have you done to Professor Snape' look.


	2. The Green Lady

**CHAPTER 2 - The Green Lady**

For many Wednesday nights they worked together to decipher the mysterious writing. Snape asked Harry to read texts in Parseltongue, and then transcribed those segments of speech, such as "sssesssii haaassh iss", which meant "my name is Ceci" in the typical inverted order of the language (literally, "Ceci name mine"). Snape tried to translate this in phonemes (in this case, something like "sesi hazh is") and kept tabs on all the phonemes in order to establish which were the most frequent ones. Then, he tried to associate the phonemes to the symbols scrawled in the Manuscript. He started checking which was the most used phoneme and linked it to the symbol that appeared more often. They proceeded this way, always testing to see if they could find combinations of sounds that made sense. Ceci watched all this with interest, sometimes offering some commentary and exchanging ideas with Harry under Snape's envious eyes.

The work progressed slowly. They talked about nothing but the task and, even when discussing it, they kept themselves to the essentials.

At first, they would often lose their patience with each other and end up in disputes, but with time those became rarer, and a distant but almost respectful co-existence was established between them.

One of those nights, Harry descended to the dungeons and found Snape in the Potions room, stirring a cauldron. "What's that potion?"

"This is... the Green Lady."

"Er... What's it for?"

"You still haven't opened your books, hmm?" Snape shot him a look of sheer disdain.

"Muggles would call it 'absinthe'. But what I do is different. It's not only a concoction of elements."

"But absinthe is the same as wormwood. Isn't it too bitter?"

"Obviously, it must be aromatised and mellowed with other herbs. Chief among these is the gracious Melissa, of which the great Paracelsus thought so highly that he incorporated it as the main ingredient in the preparation of his Ens Melissa Vitae. Paracelsus expected the Ens Melissa Vitae to be an elixir of life and a cure for all diseases but, at least in his hands, it never came to perfection."

Harry observed him, intrigued. Snape spoke and acted differently from his characteristic manner.

"What other herbs?"

"Mint, anise, fennel, and hyssop, all holy herbs according to the Treasury of Hebrew Scripture... We can't disdain Muggle culture completely, Potter," Snape commented. "And also the sacred marjoram which renders man both chaste and passionate."

"Chaste and passionate? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

Snape faced him with surprise. 'Oxymoron' was not a word he had expected to hear from Harry's mouth. "A contradiction, you mean. An oxymoron would have two terms yoked together, as in 'cunning Gryffindor'."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Back to your question, it's not a contradiction. Absolutely. Think of the Catholic saints, for example." Snape turned to pick another ingredient and added it to the potion. "These tender green stalks are the mystic angelica. Like the Artemisia absinthium itself, it's a plant of Diana, and gives the purity and lucidity, with a touch of the madness, of the Moon."

"This Diana is a Greek goddess, isn't she?"

"It's the Roman name of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. But for us, she's the Moon itself, and the forces of nature." Snape turned again to get another ingredient. "And, this is the Dittany of Crete, which the eastern Sages claim to be the one flower that has more puissance in high magic than all the other flowers of all the gardens of the world. It's as if the creator of the Green Lady had intended to combine the most sacred herbs to cleanse, fortify, and perfume the human soul."

More intrigued by the minute, Harry stared at him as if hypnotised.

"Can't you recognise me? This is really me, not someone using Polyjuice Potion to impersonate your _repulsive_ teacher. It's probably the influence of the potion fumes. I've lost track of time, I've been here for quite a while already... The Green Lady is delicate, subtle, but I feel it rushing through my veins, ensnaring my senses."

"When you made your speech in my first Potions class, you were talking like this too."

"Sometimes, on special occasions, the Green Lady helps me to overcome the tension, to feel more... confident. Did you think it was easy for me to face having the son of James Potter in my class? The Boy Who Lived, our new celebrity?"

Snape really wasn't himself, Harry thought. In his normal state, he would never have confessed that to him.

"The Green Lady renders the breathing freer, the spirit lighter, the heart more ardent, soul and mind alike more capable of executing the great tasks. Everything surrounding us acquires a sacred character, as does every gesture we make."

Snape seemed to float, dance in the air... Or was Harry already being affected by the fumes as well?

Snape picked up a bottle of translucent crystal with some green liquid inside and showed it to Harry. "Would you like to taste it?" he asked.

Harry's eyes widened. No, he couldn't accept, it was too dangerous. He didn't trust the slimy git. But for some reason, he couldn't make himself open his mouth to refuse it. He saw Snape getting two cocktail glasses, conjuring an ice cube inside each one and pouring the Green Lady. As it touched the ice, the beverage bubbled and turned milky. Snape offered Harry a glass. "Drink slowly. _Slowly_, I said."

Harry sipped it. The Green Lady seared his throat and went down burning his innards, already trying to ignite his veins. "Wow."

"It'll only be completely effective in half an hour. Don't worry. The Green Lady will take us wherever she wants us to go, but I know her roads too well. And I won't let you go too far."

He took the glass to his lips, savouring the drink and feeling its texture.

More and more the Green Lady made herself present, making them at the same time more lucid and incoherent... It was as if their senses reached out far beyond visible reality. The Green Lady attuned their perception to the essence of time, entering the serpentine mazes of conscious madness. The conversation drifted to something like a _cadavre exquis_ \- a surrealist game of automatic writing.

"Every day we find ourselves in sombre hallways that reflect our figures, statues of ancient gods, icons of the jailers we ignore. Enslaved humanity, watchmaker automatons, puppets in the hands of archons, poor victims of a conspiracy that spreads to the dawn of Time, we obey as if created for that very purpose. Our faces smashed by the ruthless mace of the tyrants, mere shadows in the platonic cave, simulacrum of living beings, ghosts. Nonetheless, in you shines the spark of freedom." Snape gazed at Harry with glassy eyes. "We need you, unpredictable boy that walks the hallways of these inhospitable catacombs."

"The temptation of vertigo, the appeal of the abyss..."

"No. A knowledge that will come to you in due time."

"'And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.' Who are they to hide that knowledge from me?" Harry remembered all the times Dumbledore had told him 'it wasn't the time to know yet'.

"They might be you tomorrow."

"You really think I'd turn wizards into puppets, deciding destinies?"

"Destiny is green," murmured Snape, who saw walls, table, bookshelves filled with ancient tomes, everything acquire a greenish aura.

"And spins," Harry added. "It's a clock of a thousand wild arms, spinning, spinning, spinning. And you're an alien ghost, in a dimension that isn't yours."

"Sometimes you want to tear me apart, I know. You want to kick the walls, punch them until you scrape your fingers. But another world, will there be another world? Perhaps after the great universal conflagration, or perhaps in a time that is not a time, when time unfolds in space. When you are in all times, no time is your time. Nothing exists for real, except for the continuous flow that drives each probability of each event in each era and place. Dumbledore was you once, and you will be Dumbledore. And I will be here to serve you, as I serve him now."

"No! We'll find the Grail and get out of time."

"Ah! But isn't this what the Dark Lord is saying at this very moment too?"

"The temptation of vertigo, the appeal of the abyss?"

"The Grail is lonely and ruined."

"The Green Lady promised me lucidity, but I'm more lost than ever," said Harry, as if returning from the severest stage of the trance.

Snape gave him an ironic grin. "But for a moment you could see her, couldn't you? With absolute clarity?"

"Yes, I did. I could see how this is all pointless. I could see how isolated I can be from everything and everyone. Delusionally above everything and everyone. I could see there is no difference between Voldemort, Dumbledore and myself."

In that moment, Severus held Harry's hand. The shock of the magical energy flowing in that simple touch was vertiginous. Harry's eyes widened. He wasn't isolated anymore, nor above anything or anyone. The illusion of being special revealed itself in all its stupidity. As if, before a Boggart, he had suddenly yelled, 'Riddikulus!' Ah, it was so simple. As if everything had fallen into place. The Lion and the Serpent merged, and destroyed the destroyer. This was sacred. More than everything else.

That was so different from Legilimency. It was another sort of mind fusion; a soul merging, perhaps.

"If we destroy the destroyer, the mechanism, the torture machine, we won't need to exert all that power and control. But to achieve that, we'll have to be very, very strong. We'll have to control our own power," said Harry, his eyes beaming insanely.

"Careful with the Green Lady. Sometimes she can be like the Mirror of Erised and show our deepest desires."

"Desires aren't _just_ desires. They move the world around."

Bit by bit, however, they left the Green Lady's arms.

"But they can also deceive us and, consequently, imprison us. First you saw yourself as a special being. Then you noticed how much this is illusory. Now you see the Lion and the Serpent, the union of two beings, as something special."

"You mean we'll need the strength of other wizards? Of other beings? Maybe the Order of the Phoenix, but..."

"Oh, no doubt about it. The Order of the Phoenix is the best we have so far. Nevertheless, just as it is insane to leave the destiny of the world in the hands of one individual, or of a sacred couple, it is also insane to unswervingly trust one group's mystique."

"How can you live like this? Is there something you believe in? Is there someone you trust?"

"Never the same way you do, silly Gryffindor. Never." Snape stared at him oddly. What was he doing? Disclosing his most secret thoughts to Harry Potter? Oh, Merlin. "Potter, go to your room. It's late. We lost an entire night of work."

"That's not my fault!"

"Get out of here!"


	3. The Green Light of Avada Kedavra

**CHAPTER 3 - The Green Light of Avada Kedavra**

The memories of that Green Lady night were blurry in Harry's mind. However, there was one thing he was sure of: Snape had acted very differently from usual. He had spoken to Harry with admiration and, even more, with deep deference. Had the potion completely altered his personality, his feelings? Harry hadn't felt all that different. He had felt like himself, only more... lucid, more connected to everything around him, more sensitive. And that moment when Snape had held his hand, what was that? Something so intense that it hurt. Could it be only the effects of the potion?

Immersed in doubts, Harry still had to face Dumbledore's Occlumency lessons, which were extremely painful. He felt totally exposed before the Light wizard who, seeing all the misery filling the teenager, seemed to be trying to enfold him in his wise and magnanimous comprehension. However, the old wizard's inherent kindness was hurting Harry, smothering him. And this only made Harry feel even guiltier, even more wrong... and even more rebellious.

If the present was disturbing, it didn't help to think of the future that awaited him. He was fated to be either victim or murderer. The future of the wizarding world was in his hands. And he couldn't even cast an Unforgivable. The worst part was that no one appeared to be concerned about that, in preparing him for the final confrontation. The new DADA teacher was pathetic, ridiculous. Even with his little experience, Harry was sure he knew a lot more than the man did.

All these excruciating doubts led him to take an unexpected decision. One that involved Severus Snape, in whose office he was working that night, trying to decipher Slytherin's Manuscript. "Professor?"

"Potter?"

"I... er..."

"Potter, that articulation problem of yours is really astounding and seriously irritating. Spit it out."

"Professor, I'd like you to teach me Defence Against the Dark Arts."

A dark eyebrow arched. "What did you say?"

"I'd like you to teach me Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Potter, I am your Potions teacher. Your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is..."

Harry cut him off. "I know that. But... I think you're better prepared to teach that course."

Snape's eyes widened. "And just how did you get to this brilliant conclusion?"

"Well... Sirius once told me..."

At the sound of the name he abhorred, Snape's eyes narrowed.

"...that you, when you entered Hogwarts, knew more about the Dark Arts than most of the seventh-years. And you know, Sirius wouldn't acknowledge your merits if they weren't true." Harry wasn't surprised to see his teacher's lips curling in a sneer. "Being a Death Eater..."

Snape made a sudden movement, instinctively seizing his left arm with his right hand. Then he folded both arms over his chest. "Former Death Eater, Potter."

"You know the prophecy, don't you?"

"What is your point?"

"According to the prophecy, my destiny is to either kill or be killed by Voldemort..."

"I have already told you not to say that name!"

Harry pretended not to have heard him and continued. "In this case, isn't it logical to assume that I should learn to defend myself by using the Dark Arts? So I can defend myself from Voldemort? And wouldn't it be for the best if I learned them from someone who knows the subject better than anyone else, and who knows Voldemort's way of thinking and acting?"

"I see, with no small amount of surprise, that unlike obedience to your superiors, logic isn't an entirely alien concept to your mind, Mr Potter!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "So?"

"So what?"

"Will you teach me or not?"

"Potter, what you ask me isn't up to my decision. The Headmaster will not allow it."

"Dumbledore won't allow it? Why?"

"Firstly, he doesn't allow _me_ to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. This is something he has always made very clear. Secondly, he will never allow _you_ to be taught the Dark Arts."

"But why?"

"Because... because the Dark Arts are very dangerous."

"Well, and Voldemort, isn't he dangerous?"

"Precisely. There are those who think that the Dark Arts was what transformed the Dark Lord in what he is today. It is a polemical matter. However, in any event, the Dark Arts make possible the creation of... Dark Lords."

"Dumbledore thinks that if you teach me Defence Against the Dark Arts I can be turned into a kind of... Voldemort?"

"It isn't that simple, evidently. You have this irritating tendency to simplify things. Not everything is one-dimensional, Potter. Not everything is either black or white. The fact is that you cannot practice the Dark Arts without collateral damage. The Dark Magic changes the wizard that performs it. It deforms him. It... dehumanises him."

"But you... you're on the side of the Light."

"Am I? Do you trust me?"

"Me? Well, Dumbledore does."

"Dumbledore isn't perfect. Sometimes he makes mistakes, doesn't he?"

Harry thought about the sequence of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers that had been hired by Dumbledore: Quirrell hiding Voldemort under his turban; Gilderoy Lockhart, a complete fraud; the fake Moody... He remembered the previous year, when Dumbledore had confessed to Harry he had made a mistake by not telling him previously about the prophecy, and remembered all that useless commotion over the copy of the prophecy that was kept in the Department of Mysteries of the Ministry of Magic, and how it had resulted in Sirius' death. "Yes, but..."

"Furthermore, I also managed to win the Dark Lord's trust..."

Harry shivered. "Er... What are you trying to prove?"

"Me? Nothing. I merely asked if you trust me. Your old, sadistic, greasy, loathsome Potions teacher. Former Death Eater, traitor to all causes, king of the second chances. Head of Slytherin, enemy of the Gryffindors. Be honest. A few days ago you were blaming me for the death of your godfather. You hate me, just as much as I hate you."

"One more reason for you to be my tutor. It will be easier to cast an Unforgivable against someone I despise so deeply."

"Potter!"

Harry faced him defiantly. For a few dreadful moments, neither of them said a word. Eventually, Snape spoke between gritted teeth, in an even lower tone, "Do you want to learn the Dark Arts from someone you don't trust? Don't you have any notion of the danger? You are indeed a perfect Gryffindor..."

"Not Dark Arts; Defence Against..."

"Nonsense. How would you learn to defend yourself against something when you don't know what it is? In order to learn Defence, you need to learn the Arts, there is no alternative. The rest is rubbish."

"Like our Defence Against the Dark Arts classes here at Hogwarts?"

"Don't you put words in my mouth, Mr Potter. The Headmaster has his reasons to act this way. The fact is that he doesn't want me to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Why?"

"Ask him."

"If he allows it, would you teach me?"

"That's a totally irrelevant question, since he won't."

"What if I manage to persuade him?"

"The Golden Boy thinks he can get everything, hmm?"

"You've said yourself that I always manage to break the rules and get away with it... If I manage to convince the Headmaster, will you teach me?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You're annoying me so much that you might deserve the answer you're trying to drag out off me. Just don't complain later if my words hurt your precious ears! It would be too risky for me to teach the Dark Arts. Because Dark Magic is... alluring. Because... you don't know the feeling of having someone under your power, with no restrictions... to put someone under Imperius... or to be able to annihilate them with an Avada Kedavra. You don't know how intoxicating it is, the green light of Avada Kedavra, Mr Potter..."

The hair on Harry's nape bristled. He shuddered, remembering the scene of the death of his parents. The green flash, his father's screams, then his mother's..."

"Did you... feel pleasure... with the Avada Kedavra?"

Green and black eyes fought a silent battle. "I know it's not easy for you to hear this, Potter. But it's the deepest truth. That is why the Dark Arts are so dangerous: because they're fascinating."

"But then... why have you come to Dumbledore's side?"

"Perhaps, deep down, I wasn't the monster you think I am. Perhaps I still had a bit of a conscience left. And perhaps I noticed, albeit belatedly, that it was insane. Do not believe, however, that renouncing the Dark Arts was easy. Even today I must control myself so I..." Suddenly, Snape seemed to realise he was going too far. He let the sentence die, and faced Harry sharply. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. After all, I guess you already have the answer to your question."

Harry stood up, indignant. "How do they expect me to defeat Voldemort then?" The images of Sirius, Cedric, his parents, of all Voldemort's victims glided before his eyes. "And how many people will die until I find out how to defeat him?"

Snape was on his feet too. "Stop thinking of yourself as the world's saviour, Potter! That delusion of grandeur of yours will be the Order's doom someday! Sit down and go back to work."


	4. Bubhall

**CHAPTER 4 - Bubhall**

The war between the Order of the Phoenix and the followers of the Dark Lord proceeded, but Harry watched it from afar. Hogwarts, which in his first four years there had proved itself a place full of surprises and secrets to be shared with his friends, had already utterly lost its enchantment the year before; now it felt like nothing but an overwhelming, lonely routine. Ron and Hermione, as Prefects, were always busy. And Harry was unable to open his mind to them, tell them about his worries. He had had to tell them that he spent Wednesday nights working with Snape in a secret project for the Order, since they obviously hadn't bought the "remedial potions" excuse. However, as Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy, he didn't get to disclose anything else.

Maybe it was the lack of something to do, or maybe some stubbornly lasting memories of the Green Lady night, but the fact was that Snape wouldn't leave his thoughts. He was a puzzle Harry couldn't decipher.

One time, during a late afternoon, Harry located on the Marauder's Map the tiny dot named Severus Snape in one of the dungeons that usually wasn't employed for classes. Close to it there was another dot with the inscription, "Blaise Zabini". The two dots kept a certain distance from each other, while moving constantly. It was a rather strange choreography. What could they be doing? Suddenly, the Blaise Zabini dot was thrown against a wall! Soon afterwards the Severus Snape dot moved closer to it, then stepped away once more.

Since that day Harry began to watch Snape through the map during his free time. And he found out that not only Blaise Zabini but also three more Slytherins - a fourth-year named Basedow Wolke, a seventh-year girl called Karen Khan and, goddamn it, Draco Malfoy! - took turns facing Snape in that room. It looked like... a Slytherin private duelling club.

As he saw Snape duelling with Draco Malfoy, intense rage assailed him. Snape refused to teach Harry Defence Against the Dark Arts, but offered private lessons to Draco Malfoy? Harry put on the Invisibility Cloak and marched to the dungeons. He walked past the Potions classroom and Snape's office, moving to the abandoned room where the duels took place. The door was closed; Harry grasped the doorknob and opened it slightly.

The two duellists had their focus on the combat, so Harry managed to enter and close the door without being noticed. He sat on the floor, in a corner near the door, and watched. Snape yelled instructions to Draco the whole time, and the latter paid attention to everything the teacher said. Whenever he hit Draco more violently, the teacher made a point of checking if the student was all right. Draco wouldn't recoil. Harry had never expected to see such a dedicated Draco.

With his eyes locked in the duel, Harry didn't notice the vapourous figure sneaking upon him. "Ah-hah! How dare you invade the realms of the King of Slytherin, impertinent Gryffindor? Surrender or I will disembowel you and pulverise your bones!"

The Bloody Baron! For a moment, Harry was frozen. Draco and Snape turned to where the Baron was looking at, in other words, in _his_ direction! So Harry leaped to his feet, firmly holding the cloak. He opened the door and ran out through the dungeons corridors, trying to keep the cloak in place. The Baron, always faster, kept trying to stand in his way, forcing Harry to walk through him, which caused a very unpleasant, distracting chill through his spine.

A shout was heard in the hallway, "Petrificus Totalus!"

~*~

"Finite Incantatem."

Harry raised his head, propped up on his elbows and looked around, disconcerted. He was on a couch in front of a fireplace in... Snape's office! At a glance, out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Ceci staring at him with concern. Snape came closer and halted a few inches away, looming over Harry. "So, what was the greatest rule-breaker in the entire wizarding world, the illustrious Harry Potter, up to this time? Spying on me?"

Harry lowered his head and remained quiet. After all, it was indeed a good question, and he didn't know how to answer it without getting himself into yet more trouble.

"Lost your tongue, Mr Potter?"

"Er... I... don't know, sir."

"You don't know! Perhaps some spirit possessed you, put your cloak on and brought you down to the dungeons?"

"No, sir."

"So? What is your explanation? Out with it, I've been patient enough."

The proximity to the older wizard's body disturbed him. Formerly, Snape had inspired in him nothing but fear and revulsion. Now his emotions were much more complex. There was also shame, pain, humiliation and... He couldn't name that feeling. Desire? Attraction?

"I've been waiting, Mr Potter, and for quite a while, for you to explain to me why you dared invade the privacy of my House."

"Why are you teaching duelling to Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and the other Slytherins... 'clandestinely'?"

"'Clandestinely'!" Snape snorted. "I have no interest in revealing anything regarding the way I direct my House. And I won't tolerate your coming to spy on us! I will report your behaviour to the Headmaster."

"Why do you tutor the Slytherins and tell me Dumbledore forbids you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"I have already told you, this is my business. If you have any questions about this matter, take them to the Headmaster."

A long silence followed this statement. Harry stood up and walked to Ceci's enclosure. He stretched his arm to her, and she coiled around it.

"Mr Potter, has nobody taught you that turning your back on a teacher is rather disrespectful?"

Harry left Ceci in the enclosure and went slowly to the fireplace. On the mantel he found a strange object, apparently a horn, twisted like a snail. Somewhat distracted, he took the horn-snail in his hands. As he did so, he felt an odd vibration. He brought the mysterious object to his ear and heard a mighty clangour. It was like the echo of sea waves. He returned the horn to the mantel and turned back to the teacher. "Everybody seems to know my role in this war. While the so-called 'Golden Boy' is as lost as a fish in the Sahara, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do."

"I'm surprised at this statement, Mr Potter, since you evidently take pride in playing the role of troublemaker," Snape snapped.

For the first time Snape was right to say so, Harry thought. The problem was that not even he knew what he was looking for. That was precisely the problem: he didn't know what he wanted from Snape. However, a deep anger - against everything, everybody, and maybe above all against himself - came over him. He needed to do something drastic, or else that anger would swallow him whole.

"That's right. This whole time you've been telling me that and it wasn't true. I could tell you, in all honesty, that it was trouble that would find me. But now I've had enough of being the... the prey. I've had enough, you get it? I hate you, and I hate Dumbledore too," Harry yelled, and ran away, banging the office door.

~*~

After a moment of hesitation, Snape decided it was best to go after Harry. In the state he was, the Gryffindor would probably get himself into trouble. He ran up the stairs and got to the Great Hall in time to see him dashing out of the castle. This was ridiculous, chasing a student like that, but what else could he do? He could summon his broom, but in the Forbidden Forest - for all indications were that the brat was heading there - one could only fly over the treetops, making it hard to locate him.

Harry ran past Hagrid's hut and into the Forbidden Forest. He was fast, but Snape didn't let him out of sight. However, the wood was gradually becoming denser. He had to leap over logs, twist his body and lower his head to avoid the branches, be careful not to get his robe entangled in that mess. It was such irresponsibility, the brat would pay for it. What if the Dark Lord or a Death Eater spotted him? Outside Hogwarts, Harry was unprotected.

Dusk approached. Snape was already tired of dodging branches and vines when, coming to a glade, he found Harry standing still, gazing at the skyline. To the west, near the setting sun, an unicorn calmly sauntered.

Snape moved closer to Harry, who, without even turning, told him, "So beautiful, isn't it? You know, in fourth year we studied unicorns with Professor Grubbly-Plank and then with Hagrid, but I was so worried about Hagrid and that damn Triwizard Tournament, I didn't even pay attention to the unicorns. Now, I was running like an idiot and I saw the unicorn, and it was as if a surge of energy, a force more powerful than me, had made me halt and see how crazy I was..."

"They are said to be a good augury," Snape noted with a very uncharacteristic gleam in his eyes as he turned from the beautiful animal to Harry. "If you want, I can teach you an ancient spell in Gaelic... You aren't exactly a virgin damsel, but... I think he will go to you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really? Why don't you say the spell yourself?"

Snape stretched his arm, pulling the sleeve to show the Dark Mark. "With this, he will never come near me."

Harry gazed at him with sadness, perhaps compassion. Snape moved forward and began dictating the words, which Harry would then repeat.

_O Bubhaill  
Tiugainn leamsa 's dèan cabhaig 's théid sinn thairis a null  
Dh' eilean uasal na Gàidhlig rinn ar n-àrach 'nar cloinn._

As soon as Harry uttered the last word, the unicorn turned to them and came in their direction. Snape stepped back a little, his eyes locked in the animal's fluttering mane. The unicorn approached Harry until it was at arm's length. Then, as if controlled by invisible strings, it knelt before him.

Smiling to Snape, Harry mounted the unicorn. The latter stood up and started trotting. Clueless about how to ride the animal, Harry simply led it take him wherever it wanted. The unicorn rounded the entire glade, and returned to their starting point. Snape awaited them there, watching them with awe. It was an impressive sight: the young wizard, radiating magic, and the white unicorn, symbol of purity and white magic. How was it possible to emanate so much power? What a strange combination, power and fragility at the same time...

When Harry and the unicorn miraculously came near him, Severus Snape thought it could only be a dream. Harry made a gesture to dismount. Snape stretched his arms to him. The young wizard's slender body willingly fell in the arms of the older one. Their bodies brushed before Harry's feet touched the ground and, as if moved by sheer magic, their lips met. On that moment, the magic radiating from the two wizards merged for a brief instant, creating multicoloured lights and reflections. The stars of Ursa Major, the septuor, shone intensely in the sky around them, and ethereal music permeated the air. All sensations seemed to be blending, leaving them dizzy, intoxicated. The moment was infinite but, paradoxically, it couldn't last long, or else they couldn't resist the strength of that magic. They separated because, if they had stayed like that one second longer, they would have never been able to return to earth, to the real world.

Harry breathed deeply and shook his head, his eyes glazed. "What... what was that?"

Still breathless, astonished, Snape didn't answer.

"This wasn't just a kiss, was it?" Harry insisted.

"No, it wasn't."

A long silence.

"Let's get back to the castle. This place isn't safe," the teacher stated imperatively.

"You really won't explain to me what's just happened, will you?"

"No, Potter. And more: you'd better forget this so we can go back to treating each other the way we always have."

"I see. I'm the idiot boy, insolent brat, foolish Gryffindor. And you're the greasy old git, sadistic teacher, loathsome Slytherin."

"Exactly."

"To hell with you! You can't deny what's just happened! It was as if the stars had come down to earth and our bodies had been turned into pure light and music."

"And what are we to do about it? You are sixteen. I am old enough to be your father. You are my student. You are Gryffindor, I am Slytherin. I have this lovely Mark in my arm that puts me under the control of possibly the most powerful and certainly the most malignant wizard on earth, whose obsession is to destroy you."

"It doesn't matter if I'm only sixteen. I'll never forget what happened today. It's something infinitely larger than these ridiculous differences of age and Houses. As for Voldemort, the prophecy says I'll have to face him anyway."

_Severus Snape, you are being an idiot,_ Snape mused. _The boy is too young, he will never understand. The way things are now, he will never leave you alone. There isn't any other way._

"You are too young and believe in all those Gryffindorishly romantic ideals. Courage and ideals are important, but they're not everything." Black eyes met green ones, piercing them. "Obliviate."


	5. Septuor

**CHAPTER 5 - Septuor**

The old routine, once again. The usual sarcasm in Potions class, the intimidation when they met in the hallways. But somehow, Harry knew. He couldn't prove it, but he guessed it. Snape had cast a Memory Charm on him. Nonetheless, the spell hadn't erased the notion that something very important had happened that day. He remembered riding the unicorn and then... a strange blank, which wasn't exactly Nothing. It was a blank full of... of what? Something indefinable. The most intriguing of all had been Snape's detached behaviour as he provided Harry contact with the beautiful animal although he was incapable of enjoying the experience himself. However, since then Snape had denied that pleasant image before Harry every day. In other words, Snape was still a mystery, and becoming more and more so.

There was no one able to help him. Ron wouldn't understand. He wouldn't dare tell Hermione either that he had irresponsibly run to the Forbidden Forest or the reasons that had led him to it.

As for Dumbledore... In the first Occlumency lesson scheduled after the scene with the unicorn in the Forest, Harry had stepped into the Headmaster's office and told him he didn't feel he was in the psychological condition to have those classes at the moment. He had made this statement with such coldness and disdain that Dumbledore seemed to understand it would be useless to insist. Strangely, he hadn't asked, as Harry had expected, if he would accept going back to being taught Occlumency by Snape.

All that irresolution and isolation was getting on Harry's nerves. At first, he had become distracted, absent. Friends and teachers noticed it and asked him what was the matter. He told them it was nothing, or only admitted to be tired of not doing anything while a war raged on.

He still coached Dumbledore's Army and practised Quidditch. Those were the only activities that diverted his mind from the mortal boredom of Hogwarts.

The work on Slytherin's Manuscript progressed slowly. A storm seemed to be forming between them. Harry couldn't focus on anything, and that deeply irritated the teacher.

"What's that horn on the mantel for?"

"Potter, concentrate on the code, or we will never be done deciphering all the phonemes."

"Is it asking too much to have the answer for one simple question?"

"It's a ptyx."

"?"

"It's the one object capable of containing the Nothing. Do you know the Nothing, insolent brat? It's never pleasant to become acquainted with the Nothing..."

Obviously, Harry didn't know what to say to that. He returned to his helpless silence and to the deciphering of cryptic codes.

~*~

In Potions class, at Harry's distracted behaviour, Snape tortured him more and more. The teacher's pressure at least made Harry feel a little more alive... Dangerously, Harry started provoking him.

"Potter, haven't I told you time and again not to add the asphodel before the mixture turns purple?"

"No, sir," Harry retorted.

"What did you say?"

"No, you didn't say any of that! Now, if you want to take points from Gryffindor, it's not my fault, there's nothing I can do about it, you're going to take them anyway, aren't you? Why do I have to keep up this act of black humour comedy?"

The entire class exchanged astonished looks. The same terror appeared in the eyes of Slytherins and Gryffindors. No one dared to challenge Snape that way. Even Draco Malfoy was too perplexed to display one of his ironic smirks.

The Potions master came to stand less than ten inches from Harry. "Mr Potter, go look for Mr Filch immediately and tell him you're in detention. Get out of here right now. And if you do not go to Mr Filch, the Headmaster will be informed of your behaviour."

~*~

The sun was about to set when Harry finished cleaning the last bathroom, the one for the Prefects. He could no longer stand the ammonia smell of the detergent Filch had given him. He was about to climb the stairs toward the Gryffindor Tower when he found... Snape.

The Potions master's gaze at that moment seemed to puncture him. Adding to the usual hatred, there was now deep hurt and rancour. "Be at my office at eight o'clock, after dinner."

~*~

At the scheduled time, there they were, in Snape's office.

"This time you went too far! Don't talk back to me, I have nothing to discuss with you. You don't deserve my patience in listening to your gibberish. In front of the school you've already served your punishment. But I'll be demanding from you an extra task. Write me an essay about the association between Potions and Dark Arts. Sit at this desk and get to work. You will only be allowed to leave when the essay is complete. And if you are thinking about disobeying me, tell me at once so I can take you to the Headmaster immediately."

Without saying a word, Harry sat on the high-backed chair where the teacher usually sat.

Snape placed a roll of parchment, a quill and a pile of books in front of him. "I selected these books for you to begin your research. They are all basic texts, hopefully not beyond your level. But if you have any doubts they fail to clarify, or if you would like to deepen the research, my library..." With a large gesture he indicated the bookshelves around them. "...is at your service."

Before withdrawing to his private quarters right behind the office, Snape stopped to collect Ceci from her enclosure and took her with him, leaving Harry alone with the books.

The first book Harry opened was _Dark Potions_. The book reported that there were equivalents to almost all the dark spells in the form of potions. Harry scribbled some notes in his parchment. Wasn't it incredible? There was, for example, a potion that offered the wizard the power to utterly control another, similarly to the effect of the Imperius Curse. Naturally, the book didn't include recipes, otherwise Snape wouldn't have handed them to Harry. In _Potions of Chaos_, wizards of an ancient order of Dark Magic, the Order of Chaos, narrated their experiences with potions that, according to them, were the best way to control the ungovernable force of Dark Magic, which normally spreads indefinitely in all directions. And in _The Alchemical Potions Book_ \- which wasn't strictly a Dark Arts tome -, there were impressive reports of how potions could alter the user's personality. Harry began to understand why Snape was so... severe, so demanding in his classes. There weren't only the risks from a possible mistake in the brewing. The wizard's concentration also made part of the process, so he had to learn to control himself.

Suddenly, Harry heard a door click open. He raised his eyes from the book and saw Snape leaving his chamber with an expression of excruciating pain on his face, holding his left arm. He saw him walk to the mantel and rummage for something. "Potter, I have to go out. I will leave you here with your research. When you are finished, just close the door behind you and the wards will reset themselves. Don't leave anything behind because, once you're out and the door is closed, you won't be able to come back in."

"It's Voldemort, isn't it?" Harry asked, worried.

Snape looked away, in a very unusual gesture. "Tomorrow we will talk about your essay," was all he said before hurrying out.

After Snape was gone, Harry couldn't concentrate on the research anymore. He wondered why Voldemort would have called Snape, what could be possibly happening. Again, Harry rebelled against the fact of being left in the dark. How would he be able to defeat Voldemort if he was always kept out of the game?

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything he could do at the moment. He did his best to focus on the essay.

Those books revealed that there was a strong connection between Potions and Dark Arts. Perhaps that was what Snape was trying to show him: that if he paid more attention to his Potions studies, he would indirectly learn some Dark Arts resources.

When Harry finished the task, he glanced at his watch. Midnight. Absorbed in his research, he had lost track of time. Midnight and Snape hadn't come back yet. Uneasy, he gazed at the base of the lamp that cast light on his parchment. It was an onyx statuette of Anguish with her arms raised toward the sky, holding the lamp - the only source of light in the dusky room. The office seemed empty and meaningless without Snape. That was the utter Dark. The death of the Phoenix. Harry started to panic, pondering the idea that Snape might not come back and not managing to bear it. He stood up and paced around the empty salon. On the mantel... no ptyx! Had Snape taken it with him? The one object capable of containing the Nothing... But the Nothing, right now, seemed to fill this place entirely. And if Snape didn't come back, that horrible Nothing would fill Harry's soul as well.

In a corner, at the back of the office, the scrying mirror, round, concave, totally dark, except for one reflection... of a golden gleam. Where had that gleam come from? From the north window? Certainly the dungeon windows didn't open to the outside of the castle, but maybe there was something in the inner courtyard that caused that gleam? No. It was more likely to be the reflection of the golden frame of the mirror itself, where unicorns assaulted a nymph with blazing flames. The mirror's dark wings closed over the agonising golden gleam, leaving nothing but the reflection of the nymph's dead body, less and less discernible. Nevertheless, amidst the vague mist surrounding the nymph's corpse, all of a sudden... the seven stars of Ursa Major, the septuor, scintillated, and an ethereal song took over the salon.

At that moment, Harry turned to the door and saw Snape. Everything seemed to merge in a vortex of emotions. He remembered the kiss, the intensity of that instant, and now all that returned, combined with other sensations. His heart was beating fast. He remembered everything now, and Snape was there, alive. Alive but, Harry noticed then, covered in mud and blood.

The septuor and the whole range of emotions dominating Harry reflected in Snape's eyes. Before he could quite understand what he was doing himself, Harry had flung himself into the older wizard's arms.


	6. Settings and Masks

**CHAPTER 6 - Settings and Masks**

"Cut it out, let me go," said Snape, noticeably trying to get a grip on himself despite the magic waves rushing around the two of them.

"You... you bastard, you had the nerve to make me forget that, why?" Harry stepped back a little and examined him from head to toe. "What are you trying to do, kill yourself? You need to go to the Hospital Wing."

"No, that place is horrendous." He pushed Harry away with both gentleness and determination, then went on with a sarcastic edge, "You won't get to celebrate the end of your bloody Potions teacher so soon."

"You're trying to deflect me, but I'm not falling for it. You have to be taken care of. If you don't want to go to the Hospital Wing, then I can help you take care of those wounds."

The predictable sneer took over Snape's face. "I know that plot, it's an overused cliché. But it's totally out of character for me. I'm not playing that role. That hurt/comfort nonsense exploits people's basic emotions, it's too mawkish and in bad taste. Moreover, it's bored me shitless already. If you pardon my French."

"Er... Are you all right? What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying this trick is too old, Potter. Possible settings... One: you prepare me a bath with healing potions; take me to the tub and ask me if I want you to scrub my back. In order to be able to move freely, you peel off your clothes as well and get into the tub... Two: I take my clothes off, lie down on the bed, and you start rubbing that special all-healing balsam on my body. You apply it slowly, with sensual moves... all over me... Three: you tell me you won't leave me alone in this state and decide to sleep in my bedroom. Since I only have one bed, a very large one... Anyway. If those were the settings you had in mind, forget it. It's not going to happen."

"It's you making up all those settings, I haven't said a word of it. For starters, what makes you think I'm gay? Worse: why would I want to sleep with a greasy old man?"

Snape's eyes narrowed, pulverising Harry with a glare. "Very well, Mr Potter. Get out."

"Great. Then you can go on with your favourite roles. One: the martyr. You feel guilty and reckon you have a debt to pay, so you don't accept anyone's help and suffer alone, till the end... when you'll probably sacrifice yourself to achieve redemption. Two: you use a mask that makes you look cold and inaccessible. You've been using that mask for so long that you can't take it off anymore. Three..."

"Enough, Potter. I'm exhausted. I don't know why that blasted mirror, instead of showing you the future, reflected images of that day and reversed a spell as complex as a Memory Charm. But if to keep you away from me I have to recast that charm a thousand times, I will do it, do you understand? Now get out of here."

"Er... what about the essay you told me to write?"

"What about it? Just hand it to me."

Harry picked the parchment up from the table and gave it to Snape. "It's just that... I have a few questions... I wish you would explain some things to me."

Once again, Snape's eyes narrowed threateningly. "Tomorrow. Be here at the same hour you came tonight."


	7. Strategies and Tactics

**CHAPTER 7 - Strategies and Tactics**

Harry came in, crossed the office and started a conversation with Ceci, who quickly told him that she had spent the night in Snape's bedroom! Harry wanted to ask her for more details, but the teacher was staring at him with an impatient look. Even so, Harry still made a point of standing before the scrying mirror, pensive. "Those unicorns aren't like the ones we have here, are they? Our unicorns don't attack nymphs!"

"Those unicorns and nymph are from Germanic Mythology," Snape explained. "This mirror was Grindelwald's. It was the only one of his belongings Dumbledore kept."

"Why?"

"Because it is not, necessarily, a Dark Magic object... It depends on how it is... configured. He gave me the mirror last Christmas. I asked him why he kept the decorated frame, the unicorns burning the nymph. He told me they symbolise the vital energy inside of us all."

"Erotic, isn't it?"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Is that what it symbolises for you?"

"Seems pretty obvious to me."

"Anyway. Be that as it may, Dumbledore kept the frame, but altered the spells in order to block the dark energies. I started changing the configuration to tune it to my energies, but up until that night you were here, it hadn't shown me anything special!"

Harry turned his attention from the mirror to Snape, intrigued. "Is that a good or bad thing? What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure I want to know."

Harry rolled his eyes, frustrated.

"Very well, Potter, enough gibberish for today. Sit down. You said you had questions about your essay."

They both sat at the desk, and talked for a long time about several topics in Harry's essay - which Snape had apparently considered satisfactory, since he wasn't cudgelling Harry with his usual caustic criticism. They discussed general subjects - such as, for example, potions that were considered strictly Dark Magic - and specific ones - such as the use of Jobberknoll feathers in important potions for mind control, like Truth Serums and Memory Potions.

At the end, Harry commented, "You know, I reckon I understand why you told me to write this essay. Because I, er, should pay more attention to classes, since they're going to give me some basis for more advanced studies."

An unprecedented beam appeared deep inside Snape's eyes, which usually reminded Harry of a dark tunnel. "I'll be damned, Potter. I'm amazed. I hope this will reflect on your behaviour from now on. Speaking of which, there is something I would like to ask you."

Here it comes, Harry winced. First Snape talked civilly to him, then almost praised him. Either the serpent was about to lunge, or the person before him wasn't Professor Snape, but someone who had drunk some Polyjuice Potion.

"You told me you hate me and Dumbledore. That you hate me is hardly news," said Snape with a sarcastic grin. "But did you really mean that about Dumbledore?"

"When you were giving me Occlumency lessons, well, you saw the kind of childhood I had," Harry replied. "With the Dursleys..."

"Dumbledore did what he thought to be best for your safety."

"For my safety, yes, but not for me. He just wanted me to turn into a good weapon against Voldemort. He does the same to you, forcing you to go on being a Death Eater."

"Don't talk that way, Potter. You don't know half of the story."

"Exactly! That's another reason to hate you both. You expect me to save the world, but never tell me the whole story."

"Nobody expects you to save the world on your own. But this is a war. Not everything can be told to everybody. And Dumbledore is in a hard position. He has to know everything and control who is allowed to know what. Try to put yourself in his place. Don't make the same mistakes I made."

"Mistakes?"

Snape didn't answer.

Harry insisted. "It was because of Dumbledore... because he didn't do anything to defend you... that you joined Voldemort?"

"I was enraged, against everything and everyone, but especially against Dumbledore." An expression of deep pain crossed Snape's face. "You... never had the sort of contact I had with Dark Magic. You would hardly tread a path as dangerous and erroneous as mine. But you might react the way you are doing now, being distracted, reckless. Not caring about what happens. And that is not good."

"It's not good for who? For the 'cause'? Dumbledore told you to say those things to me, didn't he?"

Snape stared at him with surprise and resentment. Then he regained his usual sneer. "That is obvious, isn't it, Mr Potter? Why else would I care about your behaviour?"

Harry folded his arms, making a mighty effort to keep his head.

"Listen to me," Snape insisted. "Dumbledore isn't that gentle grandpa you thought him to be at first, always giving you chocolate frogs and a friendly smile. You have already realised that. He is, in fact, a great strategist."

"Ah, a marvellous strategist. He had the supreme intelligence to put a drunk and a squib to watch over me. I ended up attacked by Dementors. Then he spent an entire year running away from me, instead of simply warning me that Voldemort was trying to possess me and that I shouldn't believe in everything I saw in my dreams. And the Order of the Phoenix spent an entire year defending a useless prophecy, instead of asking me to go to the Department of Mysteries to destroy it. My godfather died to protect that stupid shit. Brilliant."

"Potter, those delusions of grandeur of yours are becoming insufferable. You don't even respect the most powerful wizard in the universe. Truth is, you don't know everything, and you shouldn't jump to conclusions without knowing all the facts."

"I've had enough of that litany. So why don't you tell me the facts? How am I supposed to trust Dumbledore if he always has yet another rabbit hidden in his hat?"

"The wizarding world is under the threat of the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore is currently the most powerful wizard opposing him. If we win under his command, he won't try to dominate us or destroy us like the Dark Lord would. Therefore, the best thing to do now is trust him and follow his guidance."

"I thought you liked him. Admired him, at least."

"It's more than that. I have put my life in his hands."

"I don't get it. I don't get any of it."

"Have you ever heard of a Magical Debt? Life Debt? It is not a mere formality, or a matter of ethics. It's a permanent mark in a wizard's life. A stronger mark than this one." Snape showed him the Dark Mark. "It's like being chained. But being Dumbledore's slave isn't the worst thing Fate could have reserved for me."

"Oh, yeah. You could be in Azkaban. For Merlin's sake, you're not only Dumbledore's slave, you're Voldemort's too. What fate could be worse than that?"

"There is something worse than Cruciatus. Have you ever heard of... a guilty conscience? I don't think so. It is a very complex concept, beyond your capabilities," Snape added defensively.

Harry couldn't take his eyes from Snape. At that strange moment, he wanted to hug him. Comfort him. But he knew Snape would consider that a demonstration of pity, and would reject it. And even if he realised it wasn't pity behind the gesture, still Snape would reject any attempt of a closer relationship. However, Harry still had a last ace up his sleeve. "Maybe that 'conscience' thing is another of Dumbledore's blackmails to force you to do his dirty work."

"Brat, you are proving yourself a first-rate Slytherin! I believe I'll have to change my tactics concerning you."

"Are you going to teach me Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter, for your cheek."

"Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff can all go to hell!"

"Merlin save us, were we the ones who created this monster you've become?"

"You don't really want me to answer that question, do you?"

~*~

"Albus, the boy is getting out of control!"

"Easy, Severus. Sit down, have some tea. I made your favourite, Earl Grey. No sugar, just as you like."

Snape shook his head, exasperated. But, as always, he obeyed.

"I understand your concerns." The Headmaster looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes. "However, not everything is lost: he trusts you."

The Potions master rolled his eyes, without saying a word. Dumbledore poured the tea in the two cups and offered him a brownie, which Snape, holding himself in by a thread, refused.

"It's all very simple, Severus. You just have to let him get closer to you."

"Albus! What are you saying? You don't know what you're asking me..."

"I believe I know." The old wizard gave him a broad smile and leaned back in his purple armchair. "The boy likes you. And that makes you more frightened than the imminence of a Cruciatus from Voldemort, doesn't it, Severus?"

Snape stood up abruptly. "If you summoned me here to laugh at my expense, you have wasted your time. I'm not going to tolerate..."

"There, there. No need to be so upset. Sit down, drink your tea and let's talk calmly."

With a deep breath, Snape sank back in the chair.

"No, Severus, I'm not asking you to take him to your bed..."

"That would be the last straw! A boy young enough to be my son!"

"When you get to be 150 years old, like me, you'll see that difference is insignificant... But don't worry, I understand how you feel. I'm only asking you to give him the opportunity to get closer to you, to open up, to share his doubts and plans..."

"In other words: I'll have to spy on him too."

"Behind all that cynicism, my boy, you know you have a lot to gain from his company."

"Oh, sure. A lot to gain: grey hair, wrinkles, headaches..."

"He is also changing you, isn't he? That's what scares you so much. Everything will be all right, Severus. You two will come out stronger from this union."

Snape shivered. "Albus, you're playing with fire."

"That is the element that rules my House, isn't it?" said Dumbledore, with a jesting grin.


	8. Christmas

**CHAPTER 8 - Christmas**

During the two months following that first civilised conversation between them, the Death Eaters' attacks increased at an alarming rate, devastating Hogsmeade. Traditional pureblood families that were loyal to Dumbledore were exterminated, and there was little the Order could do - it isn't easy to oppose guerrilla tactics. At moments like this, the espionage work could make the difference. It was the only way to prevent the attacks.

After the classes, Harry would often go to his dormitory and, if alone, look for the Potions master in the Marauder's Map. At night, there he was, prowling throughout the castle, through corridors, chambers, gardens. When Snape didn't show in the map - and that would only happen deep into the night - Harry became worried, picturing him on his knees before Voldemort, getting hit by a Cruciatus, or maybe among the Death Eaters, burning down Muggle houses, killing babies... Sometimes Harry only managed to sleep after seeing the Severus Snape dot finally get to the Hogwarts gates. Then Snape would go straight to his chambers and stay there, and Harry would fall asleep.

Ceci was an important ally and Harry's informant. Under Snape's increasingly suspicious gaze, Ceci would tell him about her master's week, if he seemed well or if something was bothering him. Harry would ask her to pay attention to when her master came home late and check if he was wounded or severely depressed, so she could tell Harry later. Ceci would reveal that her master sometimes returned very late, looking terribly tired and downcast, but that he would then drink some potions and wake up the next morning in a good mood, going on with his routine.

Snape didn't treat Harry with disdain anymore. Sometimes Harry wondered if he was dreaming, or if some kind of link was indeed coming to be formed between them, a link that wasn't based on hate.

~*~

Shortly before Christmas, Snape and Harry completed the deciphering of the code in Salazar Slytherin's Manuscript. Now they could start the proper translation. Harry would read it and translate it aloud; Snape would write down the translation dictated by Harry and check any problems of coherence.

That night, before going out, Harry stopped at the door, hesitant. Snape stared at him with his Basilisk gaze.

"You're using Legilimency on me," Harry noted, surprised.

"You were particularly readable now," Snape replied.

"You do that often? Trying to read my mind?"

The teacher's sarcastic grin didn't hide a certain concern. "And you don't?"

"What's the point? You're a solid wall."

"If it were that hard, you wouldn't have noticed my attempt. It's a two-way process. The moment I try to penetrate your mind, I must lower my defences. That's when you can sneak through them. That's how you've just noticed it now."

"Interesting... Well, did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," the older wizard admitted. "It seems your classes with the Headmaster were productive. Maybe that's why he relieved you from them."

"He didn't. I dismissed him."

"Such arrogance, Mr Potter!"

"Ouch, don't start! What I wanted to ask is... Er, I don't have anywhere to go on Christmas. The Dursleys would kill me if I went there. The Weasleys are too busy with the Order, and I don't want to bother them. And Hermione is going abroad with her parents. So... I've already talked to Professor McGonagall... I'm staying at Hogwarts. So we could go on with the work, couldn't we?"

"I don't think that would be advisable. There aren't schooling activities during the holidays, therefore there aren't remedial classes either."

The two of them stared at each other for a long while. Harry gulped. "What am I going to do during the next two weeks? What a waste of time! I'm gonna bore myself to death!"

"Stupid boy. I could order you a three-roll essay about the various uses of dragon eggshell."

A grimace was Harry's only reply.

Snape made an impatient gesture. After an awkward silence, he spoke at last. "You know how I hate Christmas parties. Albus keeps teasing me, trying to embarrass me. Why don't you... come to see me after the party? With your cloak, naturally... I'll be more sadistic and unpleasant than ever. I promise you won't be bored. And I would get to have my revenge from Albus through his Golden Boy..."

"Just you wait, you greasy git," Harry answered with an ear-to-ear smile.

~*~

On Christmas night, Snape heard a knock on his office door. As he opened it, he didn't see anyone. "You... Come in."

"Merry Christmas!" said Harry, coming inside and, still under the cloak, offering him a cylindrical package.

Snape yanked the cloak off and glared daggers at him.

Harry went to the right corner at the back of the office, where Ceci's enclosure lay, filled with plants, branches and stones. He greeted her and petted her scales.

"Ceci is lucky for not feeling this cold: I have put a spell on her enclosure to keep the temperature even," Snape sighed. "Come sit near the fire."

Harry returned to the centre of the office and sat on the couch in front of the fireplace.

The teacher slowly opened the package, concealing his curiosity. Inside the cylindrical box was a tapestry, an escutcheon showing the Lion joining the Serpent, with a tower in the background.

"Interesting... It's an occult image that became popular again in the early nineteenth century, with Aleister Crowley. But this picture seems to be from an older Order. Maybe it would be interesting to investigate its origin, huh? Thank you, Potter."

"Couldn't you call me Harry?"

"And what would you call me?"

"Well... Severus?"

"Only if there is no one else around, understood?"

"Severus..." Harry repeated. "It's such a pompous name, isn't it? Too grave."

"Listen, I didn't authorise you to criticise my name."

"That's not it. It's just that your first name is so solemn that calling you by it doesn't feel like much of a victory when it comes to intimacy."

"Petulant boy, do you know how many people have my authorisation to call me by the first name?"

"Er, sorry, I've already told you I'm not criticising your name, it's a very beautiful name, all right? It's Christmas, and I didn't come here to pick a fight with you... Severus."

Snape tilted his head, tossing aside the hair falling over his face. Then he looked at the wall over the fireplace, which had been built right in the centre of the wall, and uttered the spell to hang the tapestry there. "Affigo! Ah, yes. And Accio present." A package flew from one of the bookshelves to his hands. "I also have a present for you."

Gaping, Harry received the package and opened it with trembling hands. It was a book: _The Elusive Golden Snitch - Seeker's Strategies_, by... Severus Snape.

"What? You were a Seeker and wrote a book about Quidditch?"

"It was never published. My life as a Death Eater cut off my brilliant career as Seeker and Quidditch theoretician. And I never had the time to start again. I printed a few copies, as a home-made edition." He stared firmly at Harry. "Unfortunately, I can't wish it to be useful to you, since you're going to use this knowledge against my own House..."

"Wow, thanks. This wasn't very Slytherin of you!"

"Ah, I know. Don't tell anyone, don't let anyone see you with that book. I feel, once again, a traitor."

"And because of me, Sev!"

Snape was going to protest against that 'Sev', but gave up. The boy was incorrigible. Moreover, he didn't want to confess, not even to himself, that he enjoyed that growing closeness between them and didn't have the courage to fight it anymore. He didn't resist, however, the urge to tease him. "Perhaps, to make up for that, I should offer my team some extra training. Especially Draco," said Snape with an ironic smirk.

That feeling of deep disappointment and hollowness, was that jealousy? Harry couldn't stand the mere idea of seeing Severus near the blond, arrogant boy. But what could he do? Draco was a Slytherin, and he wasn't.

Snape hadn't taken his eyes from Harry, as if he was trying to read his thoughts, analyse the emotions on his face.

"I wish you could coach me, Sev."

"Can you imagine the look on people's faces if they witnessed that scene? The Head of Slytherin coaching Gryffindor's Golden Boy?"

"The look on McGonagall's face!"

They started chortling at the same time, and Harry's eyes widened. Severus Snape was laughing.


	9. Slytherin's Manuscript

**CHAPTER 9 - Slytherin's Manuscript**

Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin had chosen the most magical spot on the entire island to build their school. Those were lands impregnated with ancient spells from Celtic wizards and witches, and maybe from others of previous eras. Salazar had been enthusiastic about the prospect of gathering the magical children in one castle and teaching them to develop their powers. Up to this time, with rare exceptions, wizards and witches had lived isolated, which had turned them into an easy target to persecution by Muggles. It had been getting harder and harder to survive in the Muggle world, and the school, besides its pedagogical aspects, also worked to create a wizarding community.

The beginning of Slytherin's Manuscript described that historical moment of the building of Hogwarts. As Harry and Severus unveiled its contents, yet more doubts and questions would arise. Since the translation process was slow and tiresome, often they would interrupt it, in order to simply... speculate.

"You think they burned wizards then?" Harry asked.

"Well, according to the references we have found, Hogwarts was founded around 960 A.D. We know that by 1230 the Church began an institutionalised persecution of witchcraft, since that was the time the Inquisition was created. But in all likelihood the persecution before then, more diffuse, was even worse, since everyone would claim for themselves the right to apply the law in their own realms as they saw fit. The ordeal - by fire, water or even ice - was common practice before the Church outlawed it in 1215."

"So it's understandable if Salazar wanted the segregation from the Muggles. If he didn't trust them. The Muggle-borns would be able to tell their parents about the localisation of Hogwarts and its secrets. Hogwarts would have been vulnerable."

"Exactly." Snape snorted. "What I would like to know is what Godric had to say against that!"

"Would Dumbledore have a Manuscript or a Journal of Godric's?"

"He has never told me anything about it. Anyway, I don't think he would tell me. Shall we translate another segment?"

In the next segment, Salazar told that the four founders had decided to place protective spells even before the building of the castle. Salazar had opted for the 'Seven Vipers Ritual'.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"I am not sure. He might be referring to an Egyptian ritual in which the wizard swallows vipers..."

"Argh!"

"It could also be some Indian ritual. If he were a Muggle, we would have said he couldn't be familiar with Indian rites, having lived in the European Middle Ages, but as one of the four most powerful wizards of his time, he might have travelled the world and learned several foreign rites."

"And the spell he created with that ritual protects Hogwarts to this day?"

"If the Dark Lord hasn't found a way to reverse it..."

"Voldemort has had access to the Manuscript?"

"Indubitably." Snape assumed a pensive expression. "He must have taken it from the Chamber of Secrets himself, when he was only Tom Riddle."

"Then he must have had enough time to translate it, so he already knows what we're only now finding out. Luckily, Salazar apparently didn't know the spells the other founders used!"

~*~

The following Wednesday, after many lines about the castle construction, they got to the part describing when Salazar built the Chamber of Secrets as his private office. Salazar had stored all his magical instruments in there and, in order to guard the place, had taken his... Basilisk, which answered to him alone - since he was the only Parselmouth on the entire island.

"Ah-hah!" Snape exclaimed. "I knew there was something off in that story!"

"Office? Basilisk? Wasn't it the other way around? So the Chamber of Secrets wasn't built to imprison the Basilisk, but it was the Basilisk that was brought here to guard the Chamber?"

"I have always thought that place must have had some use. No one would have built such a complex chamber like the one you described just to make a cage out of it."

"Could all that story about the 'Heir of Slytherin' be nothing but a lie? You think Voldemort might have taken advantage of the legends so he could pose as the Heir?"

"I don't know, Harry. I can only deduce that all those legends about the Basilisk being left there to destroy Muggles are sheer balderdash. When Salazar left Hogwarts, he probably took his magical instruments with him, but left the Basilisk behind. Perhaps he didn't have any other place to put it, or perhaps he had intended to come back for it later but never got around to it..."

"And Voldemort managed to enter the Chamber not because he was the Heir of Slytherin, but because he could speak Parseltongue. Just like me."

"Precisely. Unless you are also a Heir of Slytherin..."

"Er. If I recall correctly, Dumbledore said Tom Riddle was the only Heir of Slytherin."

"And how can he be so sure? The wizarding families have intermixed so much in the last thousand years. There might be several heirs of Slytherin scattered throughout the world. Let's translate another segment, Harry."

In the next lines, Salazar told that, in the fens where he had come from, there had been in recent years many persecutions of wizards and witches by Muggles, and that a friend of his had been submitted to a ordeal by water, which consisted of tying a person's right hand and left foot together and throwing him in the water; if the person drowned, he would be considered innocent since the water hadn't rejected him.

Harry made a grimace. "That's a joke, right?"

Salazar's friend had vanished. Salazar didn't know if he had managed to get rid of the ropes and swim away, or if he had in fact drowned. Others had been submitted to the ordeal by fire: they had had to carry red-hot irons.

"That's horrible! I don't reckon even the Death Eaters are that cruel."

"Don't be so sure," said Snape, sombrely.

"Sev... did you... kill Muggles when you were a Death Eater?"

Snape stood up and turned his back to Harry, noticeably upset. "Do you really want to know, Harry? Are you sure you are prepared to hear the answer? If I tell you I did, that I killed many Muggles, that I killed old men and innocent children, how will you feel about me?"

"I... I don't know."

"Then leave. I don't want to see you again."

Harry tried to think of something to say, but couldn't find anything. With downcast eyes, he walked to the door and left the office.

He didn't know where to go. He wanted a spot where he could be alone and cry, and cry a lot. He ran up the stairs and went out, toward the lake. He sat down on a mound and, hugging his knees, rested his head on them.

~*~

Severus Snape paced in circles in his office, crestfallen. He had waited for that question for so long that he had begun to think it would never come at all... Such stupidity. He should have known the ghosts of the past would never leave him. In fact, he still lived amidst them, throughout every day of his life. But, by some inane delusion, he had hoped they would have stayed away from his relationship with Harry.

Harry was a wizard of the Light. Fated to become the most powerful of his time. Severus had been a fool to think that he could establish some kind of connection to the boy.

~*~

That very evening, Harry went back to the dungeons. He found Snape in the Potions room, stirring a cauldron.

"Excuse me..."

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry felt a chill at hearing the older wizard returning to the old formal, disdainful mode of addressing him. "I've come to apologise."

"Why?"

"For asking that question."

"Have you found an answer to the question I have put to you?"

"If you tell me you did, that you killed Muggles or wizards under Voldemort's orders, I'm going to feel awful, really awful. For all the people you killed. For those people's families. For everyone that had loved them. And also for you. Because, at any rate, it was something terrible and it can never be undone. There's no going back. But I'm not going to stop trusting you. Because you've never tried to deceive me. You've never said you were a... good... person."

"So I'm not a good person."

"You are." Harry stared at him. "But you've never said you were."

"I am a mass murderer and I am a good person?"

"You've made mistakes, but you regret them now and... you're paying your debts, by working for the Order."

"What if I told you that I'm still forced to do those terrible things, in the name of my working for the Order?"

"I... know you're trying to do what's best. After all, it's a war, isn't it? And in a war... someone has to do what you do. It would be naïve to think wars could be won with flowers or sherbet lemons, wouldn't it? I'm sorry, I should have understood this already, and I should respect your... secrets."

Snape let out the breath he had been holding. "All right. I accept your apology. As for your answer, no, I've never killed anyone myself, but how many haven't I killed indirectly, by serving the Dark Lord? And how many deaths have I witnessed, both as a Death Eater and a spy? Without lifting a finger to stop them? Deep down, it's irrelevant if I have killed, if I was nothing but a passive witness or an indirect instrument to those deaths."

"Don't torture yourself like this..."

"I am simply acknowledging the facts. Now leave me alone so I can finish this potion."

~*~

"Albus, I didn't believe he would be able to kill the Dark Lord, you know. Since the first moment I saw him... I hated him. It wasn't just because of his resemblance to James, no. It was just too much... All that magical potential, and completely Gryffindor. Even more than you, Albus."

"More than me, is that it? In his third year he didn't kill Sirius Black, despite all the hatred he felt for the one he thought to be the traitor to his parents. And he didn't kill Pettigrew when he learned he in fact had been the traitor. Remus and Sirius would have killed Pettigrew. I wouldn't have, but I might have let them do it, depending on the circumstances. But Harry did no such thing... Why have you changed your mind now, Severus?"

"It's not that I have changed my mind. I simply don't know anymore. In the past two years he has changed so much. At first he was confused, rebellious. Now he is starting to scare me."

"I think he is better now than last year. He is learning to communicate. As strangely as it seems, to communicate with you."

"It's frightening. Sometimes I think... he is somewhat like me."

"Ah, absolutely. You've finally realised it. There is a lot in common between the two of you. But there are also many differences."

"How do you plan to make him kill the Dark Lord?"

"I thought you didn't believe in the prophecy."

"You know I despise Divination. I have always considered it insanity to drop the responsibility for the wizarding world in the hands of a child because of an obscure prophecy. But you seem to believe it, so I would like to know your plans."

"There might be another way, Severus."

"Like what you did with Grindelwald? Corner the enemy until he's trapped in checkmate? Force him into self-annihilation?"

"Unfortunately, we still don't have feasible ways to do that, or to know if that will be possible. We must continue to arm ourselves, in every viable way."

~*~

In the final part of the Manuscript, Salazar described an altar he had erected in a crypt inside the Chamber of Secrets. He had made it the size of an Egyptian sarcophagus, and added obelisks; one black, facing North, and the other white, facing South. In a retable over the altar, he had placed many mystical ornaments. By each side of the altar, a candelabra. In the centre, the Grail.

"By Merlin, Sev, what is this guy talking about? Is there all this stuff in that filthy chamber?"

"I don't know. You were the one who went down there, not me..."

"Sev, we've got to go there right now!"

"Easy, Harry. If those things are still there, they have been there for almost a thousand years and they won't vanish from one week to the next. And if they aren't there anymore..."

"I can't believe it, you are so cold."

"That's not it. It's just that... I don't want to raise false hopes. Salazar must have taken everything of importance with him. And even if he didn't, Tom Riddle has already been there, remember?"

"Er."

"We should prepare this excursion carefully. What if we get down to the Chamber next Saturday? In the morning. Tell no one what we have found out, understood? I mean no one, and that should include Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Let me think... Wear your cloak, naturally. And bring your broom."


	10. The Grail

**CHAPTER 10 - The Grail**

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom remained out of order. Snape pushed the door open, and he and Harry entered with silent steps. No sign of Moaning Myrtle, who should be out on a stroll through the plumbing.

They went to the sink and the tap with the carved snake.

"Open up," said Harry in Parseltongue.

The tap glowed intensely and started spinning. The sink moved then, exposing the broad pipe.

"I'll go first. Wait a while before coming in, or you will fall on my head," said Snape, pushing Harry away and jumping into the pipe. Cold, damp darkness swallowed him before the vertiginous fall. Endless seconds passed until he landed on the wet floor of the stone tunnel. "Lumos!"

Soon Harry landed beside him.

They walked into the tunnel, enveloped in shadows. Rats ran in all directions, fleeing their steps.

At last, they got to the wall with the two entwined serpents sculpted in it. Their emerald eyes glinted. Harry stepped forward and hissed, "Open up."

The serpents parted, revealing the inside of the Chamber.

With utmost caution, they entered. The same eerie, greenish gloom, the sinuous pillars. Everything was just as Harry had found in his second year. Except, he hoped, for the Basilisk. Snape looked at everything with such interest and attention that Harry couldn't help asking, "How do you feel, being inside Slytherin's sanctuary? Is it an old dream coming true for you?"

"Isn't it ironic? When I was your age, I would dream I was the Heir of Slytherin! Now a Gryffindor guides me to Salazar's sanctuary! I hate you, Harry Potter, more and more!"

Harry gave him a shining smile.

They approached the giant statue of Salazar. The simian face, the long beard, the imperial posture.

"Was the Basilisk in there?" asked Snape.

"Yeah. It came out through Salazar's mouth."

"Frightening, but I wish I could have seen it! Why did you have to bring that useless Lockhart and not me?"

"Because you were the one who told him to come, remember? And at the time I was more afraid of you than of a Basilisk." The green eyes had an amused gleam as they met dark ones. "As if you would have let us come!"

"Of course I wouldn't! A twelve-year-old boy facing Tom Riddle and a Basilisk!"

"Oh, the Headmaster knew I would come. He all but sent me here."

"It's frustrating, downright exasperating. He always leaves us hanging, trying to guess his strategy." Snape gazed at Harry inquisitively. "You think he let you come here in order to... test you?"

"To test me or teach me something, I'm not so sure."

"And what did you learn from it?"

"Er... Something about choices. That I'm responsible for my choices. But the example he gave me, I thought it was brilliant at the time, now I think it's so stupid. He said the reason the Hat put me in Gryffindor and not in Slytherin was because I chose so. Only I knew nothing about Slytherin or Gryffindor then, I was acting on sheer prejudice. I don't see anything great in it."

"But when you were twelve, it was important for you to know... or to believe... that you had chosen correctly."

The two wizards looked at each other for a brief moment. Harry began to believe they were reaching a higher level of understanding, above all the silly prejudices such as the childish, artificial separation of the Houses.

"What do we do now?" asked Harry. "Where should we start searching for the crypt?"

"I would start with the statue. That's why I told you to bring your broom. If the Basilisk was inside it, maybe it was guarding something of value."

They walked closer and around the statue, studying it carefully as they looked for cracks or serpents, probing it for moveable parts. They made a full circle around it without finding anything that could offer them access to some place else.

"I was afraid of that. We have to enter through the mouth," Snape stated. "You know the password to open it, don't you?"

"Ugh. I'm not saying what Tom Riddle said. Over my dead body."

"What did he say? Whisper it in my ear."

Harry murmured, _"'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.'"_

"That's just more nonsense from that insane megalomaniac. Just ask him to open his mouth and be done with it."

"Speak to me, Slytherin, powerful wizard!" Harry hissed.

The statue's mouth started opening.

"I'll go first," said Snape. "If a Basilisk fits in there, a broom flying horizontally is likely to fit as well. But we don't know if two brooms will."

The two of them mounted on their brooms and took off. Snape went straight to the mouth and, slowly, flew in. He found himself in the most absolute darkness. "Lumos!" Then he shouted at Harry, "I am going to try to spiral down. Follow me."

The descent seemed to go on forever. Harry was starting to get bored when at last the space expanded around them and he managed to hover at the same level as Snape. The walls surrounding them were made of pure crystal, and emitted a thousand glints.

"By Merlin!" Snape exclaimed.

"This crypt must be in the centre of the Earth, considering how far we came down."

As they rested their feet on solid rock, they could not believe it. They were surrounded by crystals, in a huge crypt that extended into a sombre, apparently curved tunnel.

"That Slytherin fellow really wasn't an ordinary wizard, was he?" Harry commented.

Snape stared at Harry with his nose in the air and that expression of his that spelled, 'Kiss the floor where I'm standing, foolish Gryffindor'. "We should look for Slytherin's altar."

"It must be through that tunnel over there."

"Lumos!" said Snape once more, resigned.

Through rainbow reflections that spread everywhere, they walked until a closed double door, with an ouroborus (the serpent eating its own tail) serving as lock.

"This is getting rather monotonous," Snape commented, indicating the serpent to Harry.

"Open up!"

However, nothing happened. Snape moved forward and said, "Alohomora!"

Nothing. Snape tried all the spells he knew, in vain.

"Let's try Alohomora together," Harry suggested.

Snape sighed, sceptical. He looked at Harry, who pointed his wand and started counting, "Three, two, one..."

"Alohomora!"

The ouroborus unlocked and the door opened. They stepped inside and found themselves before the scene described by Salazar in his Manuscript: the obelisks, the retable, the candelabra, the altar with a chalice on the centre.

~*~

"I told you, the Grail is lonely and ruined."

"Sev... All that stuff must have some meaning. They must have some use."

They had nothing to decipher anymore, their Wednesday night meetings should have been finished, but then, who would know that? Dumbledore? All right, he would know soon. If he didn't know already from his own obscure resources.

It was the afternoon of the same morning when they had entered the Chamber of Secrets, and they were back in Snape's office. They had decided to leave Slytherin's altar untouched. Snape had told Harry that it was too dangerous to take magical objects outside the Chamber without a deeper study of them. Those objects could be trap triggers, like Riddle's Diary. Furthermore, they hadn't been able to move the chalice, take it from its place - it was as if it had been nailed to the altar. So that was it, they had found the Grail, but didn't know what to do with it...

"Let's talk to the Headmaster," said Snape, defeated. He hated to admit he needed the old wizard. "Maybe he knows."

~*~

"You what?" Dumbledore's eyes widened. "You have found the Grail and don't know what it means?" The old wizard let out the most thunderous chortle. He doubled up in his purple stuffed chair and seemed about to roll on the floor.

Snape and Harry looked at each other, at first surprised, then angry. Very angry.

"Albus, get a hold of yourself!"

The Headmaster needed a couple of moments more to regain his composure. "Ah, ah. Boys, you are so funny."

"I don't see what's so funny about it," Harry stated.

Snape was too shocked to say anything.

"My boys, you have seen the dream of any wizard come true: you have found the Grail." Dumbledore had to control himself not to start laughing again. "Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

"No, Albus, please quit torturing us. Speak up."

"Calm down, boys. As I was saying, you have made the biggest of all dreams come true. That's it."

Snape and Harry exchanged glances once more.

"So what?" asked Harry, more irritated by the minute.

"So the last thing you should be asking at a time like this is 'so what'! Celebrate or forget it, do something, just don't ask 'so what'."

"Albus!"

"I'm not going to tell you the joke. If I do, now, it won't be funny at all!"

"Joke, but what joke? We came here to ask you a question and you keep laughing in our faces."

"Enough. Let's go, Potter," said Snape, indignant.

~*~

"Er," said Harry as they passed by the gargoyle. "I'm going to talk to Hermione. She might be able to help. Wanna come with me?"

Snape hesitated. He had no wish to talk to the Gryffindor know-it-all. He felt no sympathy for her, and he had been humiliated enough for one day. But he also couldn't stand the thought of Harry learning something before him and possibly not telling him later.

"Take her to my office." At least there he would be in his territory. He wouldn't feel so helpless.

~*~

Along with Harry, Hermione stepped inside the Potions master's office with a look of lively curiosity in her face.

"Miss Granger."

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape."

"Take a seat on the couch and make yourselves comfortable. I'll bring the tea."

Hermione looked at Harry, frowning. Harry just smiled and fetched Ceci to introduce her to Hermione. Ceci was over 3 feet long now.

"So this is Ceci! I had never seen a golden boa. She's so pretty."

At first Hermione was afraid of holding her, but soon she let the snake coil around her arm.

Snape poured tea for all of them and placed a dish with biscuits in the centre of the low table.

Harry - interrupted by Snape many times - told Hermione the whole story about their research. Hermione's eyes sparkled. She had always been interested in Hogwarts' history, had read all the books she had found about it, and she couldn't resist an intellectual challenge. As they got to the end of the story, those darting eyes turned from her friend to the teacher and then back to her friend, incredulous.

"The Grail? Could it really be the Grail?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the couch, as if impatient, as if ready to get up and... do something. Watching her, Harry grinned, recognising the Gryffindor urge to act that often got the best over the critical, intellectual posture that would lead anyone to label her a Ravenclaw.

"That's the problem, Hermione, how can we know?"

"Miss Granger, we trusted Slytherin's word and found a chalice in the place where he said the Grail would be. But we cannot verify if it is the Grail or not. Slytherin might have been wrong. He might be lying. Riddle might have taken the Grail and left an ordinary chalice in its place. Anyway. There are many possibilities."

"Hermione, what we want to know is... what is the Grail for?"

"Professor Snape doesn't know?"

Snape glared at her as if he were about to cast Avada Kedavra on both of them. "If you are asking me if I'm familiar with the legends about the Grail, I obviously am. What I would like to know is whether that instrument has any use for us nowadays."

"Ah, yes. Let's consider what we know about the Grail. In the monastic version of history..."

"...the Grail is associated with Christ's Passion," Snape finished.

Harry sighed. That was turning into a duel between know-it-alls.

"Exactly. The Grail is the chalice of the Last Supper, the chalice that received Christ's blood as he was taken from the cross," Hermione continued.

"It is also said that the Grail was brought from heaven by the neutral angels," Severus commented.

"Neutral angels?" asked Harry.

"During the heavenly war between God and Satan, between good and evil," Hermione explained, "some angelic hosts took Satan's side, and others, God's. The Grail was brought through the middle path by the neutral angels. The Grail represents the spiritual path that crosses the bridge between opposing pairs, between fear and longing, good and evil. The Grail represents the accomplishment of the highest spiritual potentials of human conscience."

Harry looked at the tapestry of the Lion and the Serpent over the fireplace, right before him. Severus followed his gaze. "I would say the Christian separation between matter and spirit has in fact castrated nature. Could the Grail have been an attempt of reunification?" Snape suggested.

"I'd rather say the Grail has become the symbol of an authentic life, of a life that moves between opposing pairs, good and evil, light and darkness. If all act in this life sets out opposing pairs, the best we can do is to lean toward light, toward harmony, creating relationships that will result in compassion, comprehension. That's what the Grail is all about."

"If that is what we've found..." said Harry.

Green eyes met dark ones.

"If that is what you've found, then it's something really precious," Hermione concluded.


	11. Magical Empathy

**CHAPTER 11 - Magical Empathy**

"My boys. Allow me to say, first of all, that I have called you here to apologise."

Snape and Harry exchanged suspicious looks, but said nothing.

"I know I shouldn't have laughed like that in front of you. Forgive me. Now I suppose you must have understood why I couldn't be the one to tell you the meaning of your deed: you wouldn't have taken me seriously."

"Albus, what are you up now? Spit it out, I'm sick and tired of your meandering around."

"Meandering around? Slithering? Curious, Severus. I liked the expression."

"Albus!"

"All right, calm down! What I need to tell you is... well... you must have noticed already... although you two are very... distracted people... that... there is a... magical empathy between the two of you."

"A magical empathy?" Harry echoed, intrigued.

"Headmaster, I don't think it's convenient to address this subject right now," said Snape, alarmed.

"Severus, you have nothing to fear. I will not scold you for not having told me..."

Snape paled. Harry stared from one to the other, not understanding a thing.

"I couldn't help noticing what has been happening between you."

Harry blushed. Where were they going with that conversation? Could it be that only now the Headmaster would question them about the kiss? Why only now? Would that cause them problems?

The Headmaster proceeded. "There is a very strong magical empathy between you. If it weren't that strong, you wouldn't have been able to open the door to Slytherin's Altar. Harry, by your expression I take it that you don't know what I'm talking about. It's a special affinity formed between certain wizards, regardless of sex or age. It is very rare, and you two possess it. Individually, you are powerful wizards, but together you are even more powerful. And it's not merely a summing of strengths; it's an exponential process. Your power will grow vertiginously if you work together. In a war like the one we are engaged in, and considering the role each of you plays in it, we cannot afford to waste this potential. When you have perfected your joint magic, you will be able, for example, to move the Grail. You'll need to practice this joint magic. That's why I am even gladder to see you two getting along now."

Snape got up and paced the Headmaster's office in circles.

"You know the risks we would be taking, don't you?"

"I trust you both."

"It's not a matter of trust, Albus! You know very well how sometimes these processes get out of control! That an empathy of this nature has often led one of its components - or both - to insanity!"

Harry didn't like the sound of it at all.

"True," agreed Dumbledore. "But we won't take any unnecessary risks. We will follow a work schedule, and I will monitor you very closely."

Snape heaved a deep sigh.

Harry folded his arms. "Brilliant! You have already decided my future, then? Don't I have a voice in this?"

"But, Harry, you are here precisely to express your opinion!" answered the Headmaster, in a resentful tone.

"Oh, sure. Only problem here is that you keep talking in this cryptic language. If only you'd talk in Parseltongue, then I would understand."

"Severus is worried because, when there's a magical empathy between two wizards and they begin to put it in practice, its impact on the wizards' minds is very intense. The stronger wizard of the pair might dominate the mind of the weaker one, and cause it serious damage. That's why a good level of trust was necessary between you."

"Was necessary? You mean... Are you saying that our... closeness... has always been part of your plans?" asked Harry, clenching his fists.

"Harry, please! You don't really think I am that omnipotent, do you?"

Snape, still standing, rested his hand over Harry's shoulder, creating shining magical sparks, under Dumbledore's fascinated look.

"You are lucky that not everybody sees these magical discharges you emit; it would be too embarrassing... Only the wizards with a certain degree of clairvoyance can see them," noted Dumbledore. "It's like the aura, Harry. Very few wizards can see it. Can you see the discharges?"

"Headmaster, you're only trying to dodge the issue," snapped Harry. "We are only puppets in your hands. The truth is, our opinion doesn't matter. Whether we wish it or not, we'll have to do what you say."

The old wizard lowered his eyes, and all the weight of his age seemed to fall on his shoulders and reflect in his expression.

"One day you will understand, Harry. It's a shame that, when this day comes, it might be too late for me to regain your affection."

~*~

"He only said that to make me feel guilty, so that he could manipulate me. Didn't he?" Harry asked.

It was the first Wednesday night since the conversation with Dumbledore. Harry and Snape were in Snape's office, sitting on the sofa near the fireplace, planning their Magical Empathy practice.

"He has many layers. In one of them, he holds deep affection for you; this is unquestionable. But it's always hard to tell which layer we are dealing with."

"Er, it's not only with him that I have this kind of problem..."

"Like I told you once, the mind is a complex and many-layered thing - or at least, most minds are," added Snape.

"Oh, I remember that one. I was talking to another layer of yours, then."

Snape flashed him an ironic grin. "Are you sure of that, Mr Potter?"

"Argh." After a brief silence, Harry blurted out, "Speaking of layers, why haven't you ever told me about that damn Magical Empathy?"

"Why should I have?"

"Sev, please."

Snape pulled back the hair that fell over his eyes. "I didn't know what to do with it. I still don't, but now Albus has made the decision for us."

"What do you mean, 'what to do with _it_'? You're also a manipulative bastard, just like Dumbledore, aren't you? I want you to tell me... to explain to me... how that Magical Empathy stuff works. The people who have it... do they feel the same way I feel about you?"

"And how that would be?"

Sliding on the couch, Harry moved closer to the teacher. Snape's breathing grew faster, his heart started beating frenetically. He stared into green eyes that cast fiery gleams. Harry leaned to kiss him, and the teacher was determined to push him away at once. However... quite conversely... he found himself watching the approach in slow motion and, at last, feeling the soft, warm brush of the boy's lips. His own thin lips parted and soon their tongues met - at first rather shy and clumsy, then more and more daring. Magic waves flowed from one to the other, creating scintillating sparks. As the kiss grew deeper, Harry looked for a more comfortable position. He ended up straddling Snape's lap. With a throaty moan, Snape held the boy's head firmly with one hand while the other grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. Harry sucked his tongue and tried to get as much contact between their bodies as possible. Feeling the lust possessing the boy, Snape felt himself growing harder too, and their bodies started acting by their own will, intertwining more and more.

When there seemed to be no chance of ever regaining control, Snape pulled his lips away from Harry's and held him by the shoulders, to stop him. Breathless, trembling, he lowered his head for a moment. Then, gathering all his strength, he pushed the boy harshly aside. "We can't do that."

"Oh, Merlin."

"We can't. This cannot continue. We need to have a serious talk."

"Ah! Now you will explain the birds and bees to me?"

"Harry, please. This is not a joke."

Their eyes met, and Snape noticed the stunning lust reflected in those green eyes. The urge to grab Harry, to kiss him again, was almost irresistible.

Almost. He took a deep breath.

"There is a potion, you know... It's called Castus. A horrible concoction. It's a libido suppresser potion, with collateral effects that are almost as terrible as a Dementor's kiss."

Harry shuddered. "Do you take that stuff?"

"No. Not yet," corrected Snape. "Let's have some tea."

Snape got up, filled the kettle up with water and put it on the stove, the Muggle way. He enjoyed the ritual of making tea. But at the moment his main concern was putting some distance between him and the boy. He needed to regain his composure.

In silence, he waited for the water to reach the perfect temperature, took the kettle off the fire, picked up the teapot and focused all his attention on preparing the tea. Then he laid the teapot on the coffee table between the sofa and the fireplace. Returning to the kitchen area, he fetched a plate of Danish biscuits and the sugar bowl. Finally, he sat on the armchair which was perpendicular to the sofa where Harry was sitting, and poured the tea.

"Harry, there is nothing mysterious about the Magical Empathy. It only foments, stimulates the magical union of the wizards involved. Naturally, this magical bonding is a highly complex operation, and affects both the minds and the bodies of the wizards. But it doesn't have, in itself, a sexual component."

"It _doesn't_ have?" repeated Harry, in an interrogative tone.

"Precisely. It doesn't." Snape sipped his tea.

Harry stared at him, gaping. "You're saying that... it's not this empathy that makes...

"Definitely. It isn't."

"Oh."

"At the risk of being repetitive, I insist: alone, the Magical Empathy doesn't compel those who share it to have sex," declared Snape.

"Great, I'm feeling like a complete idiot now."

"Of course. You needed an excuse to be infatuated with your despicable Potions master, twice as ugly as a gargoyle," said Snape bitterly.

"That's not it! How can you be even more idiotic than myself?" Harry kneeled beside Snape's armchair and reached out to the teacher's face, caressing it softly with his knuckles. "Who told you that you're ugly?"

"Legilimens. Don't you remember?"

"But when? In the Occlumency lessons?" Harry held Snape's hand and closed his eyes, with a pained expression. "This was a _century_ ago, all right? If you try to read my mind now, Severus, you'll see what I really... Please!"

Snape touched the boy's unruly hair. "Harry... This is not the talk I must have with you. Go back to the sofa and drink your tea; it's getting cold. Otherwise, I won't be able to say what I have to."

"I'm afraid I don't wanna hear these things you think you have to say to me."

"Do as I'm telling you, Harry."

With a sigh, Harry obeyed. He sat down, took the cup from the coffee table and a biscuit from the plate. Snape emptied his cup.

"I'll be totally honest with you: I think the wizarding society imposes too many barriers on sexuality. We live under a level of repression similar to the Muggles' and, in my opinion, for no good reason. In the wizarding world of my dreams, sex would be as free and natural as eating, sleeping or talking. The only requisite would be mutual consent. There would be neither gender nor age barriers. But we can't deny the reality in which we live. The barriers, however artificial they might have been in the beginning, are real, and they are now so strong that they have planted themselves into our hearts and minds, bodies and souls. We cannot break them in an irrational and imprudent way, because this would also be a violence against ourselves." Snape poured another cup of tea for himself and, staring fixedly at Harry, went on. "As Dumbledore has already told you, gender and age are irrelevant to the Magical Empathy. It's a very rare phenomenon. And it's here, between us. So strong. So powerful." The two of them gazed at each other for a long moment. "You are too young to tie yourself to someone. With the Magical Empathy, if we made love, we would never be the same."

"But... is it bad?" Harry asked. "Every time we touch each other is... so good!"

"It would be something irreversible and beyond our normal strengths. I repeat, you are too young for such an experience."

"And when will I be old enough?"

"Nobody can answer this question with certainty, Harry. It's not merely an issue of numbers. At 17, you will be considered of age; you will even be able to Apparate. But this is somewhat arbitrary, it doesn't mean that a wizard at that age has effectively attained the necessary maturity. There are many wizards that only learn to Apparate when they are much older. Or never! In the case of the Magical Empathy, the risks are even greater. You can't be too careful."

"If we didn't have this Magical Empathy, would you be willing to..."

"Have sexual relations with a student? Absolutely not. The Ministry of Magic rules are very clear and forbid any kind of intimate relationship between a professor and a student."

"You know... I don't see anything wrong in what I feel."

Snape closed his eyes, savouring the boy's words. It would be so easy to surrender. It would be so easy to think that there was nothing wrong in it! "You don't see. Neither do I. But society as a whole does."

"And what do I owe society? What kind of life has it granted me so far?"

"You are right, you don't owe anything to anyone. But if you, rebellious and unruly boy, were to rise against _these_ rules... society would retaliate with unprecedented violence. We would be totally marginalised. I would lose my job. I would be sent to Azkaban, indubitably. And if that isn't enough... how would _you_ feel, seeing me to be stoned in a public square? Seeing me humiliated?"

Harry shuddered visibly.

Snape sipped his tea, and added, "And have you ever thought about how I would feel being in such a humiliating position in front of you?"

"I understand. It's horrible, I know. I understand what you are saying perfectly."

"Do you remember the day you violated the Pensieve that contained my memories? You don't know how I felt, you have no idea. Honestly, I think my worst memory is not the humiliation they made me suffer when I was 15, but that of having you watching it all."

"Severus!" Once again, Harry kneeled beside Snape's armchair and held the older wizard's hand between his. "I'm sorry. After all this time, I've never apologised. Well, in a way, I think it was all for the best. That showed me my father wasn't a saint like people had told me. And that you... were right in many of the things you said about him. But, anyway, I should have apologised for having betrayed your trust."

"I didn't trust you. I was incautious, leaving the Pensieve with you. What I did was... as you called me once... pathetic."

"Oh, Merlin. It seems that I'll have to answer for all my sins today..."

"You..." That was exasperating. There was something in the boy that disarmed him completely. Once again, he had lost control of the conversation. "Forget it. What it matters is that you have understood my motives, haven't you?"

"I have. I understand very well. But I won't renounce you! It doesn't make sense! The only way you can make me give you up is to say you don't want me."

"If you have really understood what I told you, why are you making things so difficult? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to give me some prospect of resolution for this situation!"

"I told you, while you are my student, there's no prospect of resolution at all."

"Then this is a dead end, is that what you're saying? I can't leave Hogwarts. Hogwarts is my only hope of a future in the wizarding world, and if there's something that I don't want, it's to go back to the Muggle world. Your situation is even worse. Hogwarts is your life. Then... you will say that I am a foolish Gryffindor, and that this is just romantic gibberish, but I... I will wait for you. It's only one year and some months before I finish Hogwarts."

"Please spare me your nonsense. This is a complete absurdity. You are 16. Find yourself a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, and..."

"Girlfriend... Boyfriend... I hate those words. They are so ridiculous. You would never be a boyfriend, would you? Of course not. You know something? I don't want a girlfriend, or a boyfriend. I think the truth is I've never wanted any of it."

"You are a very weird boy, Harry Potter."

"I know. After all, I am The Boy Who Lived, aren't I?"


	12. When the Stars Threw Down Their Spears

**CHAPTER 12 - When the Stars Threw Down Their Spears**

The Room of Requirement was the perfect place for them to practice the Magical Empathy: it offered them the necessary isolation for their magic, and no one could find them there.

"Our first lesson will be obviously the Swish and Flick. Take out your wand."

"Er."

"Good. I'm taking out mine as well."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Now we put our wands close to each other... until they touch. Like this. Side by side. Hold it tightly. Now we start: swish and flick."

"Would you stop that?" Harry complained.

"Stop what?"

"Those innuendoes... that's so obscene. That's it, 'obscene' is a word that fits you. With all those obscene innuendoes, I can't concentrate."

"Obscene innuendoes?" A perverse smile cut through the teacher's face. "That's a product of your adolescent mind, crammed with hormones."

Always bickering and raising verbal battles, they practised the very first lessons of Charms. Severus conjured a blue feather and placed it on a large table at the back of the room.

"Now. Let's see if we can get it up. Together."

Harry rolled his eyes, then focused his attention on the spell.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Nothing happened.

"Er. It's not working."

"The problem is that each of us is trying to 'command' the spell, and ends up overruling the other's magic. It's a very simple spell to cast jointly, because there are no choices involved in it. We just have to order the feather to levitate; we don't have to send it to either right or left, for example. So there shouldn't be any conflict between our intentions. Nonetheless, we _are_ in conflict, and the magic doesn't flow. Keep in mind that we have actually done something much more complicated than that already, when we opened the door to Slytherin's Altar. 'Alohomora' is more complex than 'Wingardium Leviosa'!"

Soon they managed to stop trying to influence each other's magic and the blue feather levitated. Then they made it fly in circles in the room.

"Now let's try the table," said Snape.

Levitating the table didn't demand any more effort than levitating the feather. However, for a moment Harry lost concentration, and the table dropped to the floor with a violent thud. One of the feet broke.

"'Reparo' is a much more elaborate charm. I didn't plan us to attempt it before our fifth lesson, but since the opportunity was made available..."

The two of them pointed their wands to the table, attuned their minds and spoke the spell. Suddenly, not only that foot had been repaired, but the table had also gained dozens of new feet.

"What's the idea, Potter?"

"Me? Who says I did that?"

"Who else would have thought of a centipede-table?"

"I don't know. You're the teacher, you explain."

"Very well. I think I overestimated you. We should leave that spell for later."

"'Overestimated me'! You're a lousy teacher, that's the problem!"

~*~

They made good use of the resourcefulness of the Room of Requirement. On a certain April night, after over an hour of fruitless attempts to master the Switching Spells, they got themselves some comfortable sofas and, leaning back, amused themselves jointly summoning Enchanted Snow - warm and dry. It was beautiful to see the falling snowflakes. On a creative whim, Snape decided to adapt a spell so they could also create an aurora borealis inside the room.

"You know, Switching Spells are difficult because we need to focus on the same image at the same time."

"We could switch these flakes into stars... Wouldn't it be beautiful, raining stars?"

"Can you picture a star clearly? We could try it through Legilimency. Let me penetrate your mind," said Severus, in his most seductive tone. "I... won't pry into anything. I just wish to enter and plant a star..."

For a moment, Harry savoured the rapture that Severus' voice and the poetic image inspired him. Then he became angry. It wasn't fair that Snape would speak to him in that tone after all that speech about any intimate relationship between them being forbidden. Snape would tease him and then reject him." Why do we have to create _your_ star, and not _mine_?"

"Always these power games," Snape snorted. "This only makes things harder."

"Look who's talking!" Harry folded his arm. "The star I picture will never be like yours."

Snape seemed to pierce him with his eyes. "Sirius? You still blame me for his death?"

Harry sighed. "I reckon I don't blame you more than I blame myself, or Dumbledore."

"But you blame me all the same."

Harry lowered his eyes, saying nothing.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive Sirius or James," Snape stated. "Therefore, don't expect me to apologise for what happened to Sirius. I would do it all again, in the same circumstances. I am not a forgiving person."

"I know that. I reckon I'm not either."

"For now, that is the best we can have, isn't it? I know it doesn't look like much, but maybe it's a start. Very well. We shall create a star... together. Through Legilimency."

Gradually, their thoughts blended, merged. Out of chaos, a star was given birth. It might not be Nietzsche's dancing star, but it pulsated, shimmered and dazzled.

Soon they were under raining stars.

~*~

Bit by bit, they came to realise that the magic they produced together wasn't exactly like the individual magic of either of them, but displayed elements from both. And, what was more surprising, it was neither Light nor Dark Magic - it was the two forces combined.

~*~

By May, following Snape's schedule, they started practising one of the most difficult spells: the Patronus.

"I first thought we could use a Boggart, since your Boggart takes the shape of a Dementor, but... have you thought about what could be our joint Boggart?"

"Er... Voldemort."

"And then an Expecto Patronum would do us no good! Anyway, we should practise it all the same. Those aren't the ideal conditions, for even if we produce a Patronus here it won't mean we will be prepared to face Dementors with it. But at least we will find out what is our joint Patronus."

"I doubt you're able to cast a Patronus... Could Severus Snape possibly have something pleasant to think about?"

"Harry Potter in a boiling cauldron full of dormice, salamanders, spiders and other abominable ingredients?"

"Seriously, Sev, what's your Patronus?"

"I won't tell you. And no use trying Legilimency!"

But Harry was becoming stronger as a wizard, and Severus knew he wouldn't be able to put up the same resistance he used to.

~*~

They didn't manage to produce the Patronus in the first day. The next day, when Snape gave the order for them to unite their powers and try once again to cast the Patronus, Harry played his trick. He pretended to try, but didn't put his will into the spell.

An impressive, majestic figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared before them, showing a grave, serene face, surrounded by silvery mist. After a moment of perplexity, Snape turned to Harry, enraged. "You cheating, treacherous creep..."

"So... it's him! How could I have been so blind? You love him..." Harry stared at Severus with wide eyes. "You love him... since you were a child... Everything you've done... was out of love for him."

"Stop that, Harry, get out of my mind!"

"I'm sorry, you weren't resisting."

"Not because I didn't try!" Snape glared daggers at him. "I feel like a Squib around you. Like you can do whatever you want with my mind, amuse yourself any way you wish."

"I am not amusing myself! Not a bit!"

"Well, then that's something _else_ we have in common!"

"Sev, I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose. And although I don't have that kind of identification with Dumbledore, although I don't like him or trust him, now I understand you a lot better. Even with you being the greasy git that you are."

~*~

It was their third day trying to cast the joint Patronus and... nothing. Snape didn't know what else to do.

"Sev... What is the best memory you have... with me? Of something we have shared?"

"That is why we'll never succeed. I don't have any good memories of anything I shared with you."

The way he looked at Harry, however, denied those words. In fact, just thinking of Harry beside him caused something to shine in the depths of his sombre soul.

"Harry, give me your hand."

"Ah! It's so good to feel your magic mixing with mine like this, physically, not just mentally!"

"The idea is that physical contact helps the mental merge. Leave your mind open. Let's unite our minds. Yes, like this. Think of me, Harry, and I'll think of you. Three, two, one..."

"Expecto Patronum!" they said in one voice.

And a lion-serpent, with phantom silver eyes, appeared before them. It was the Baphomet.

Exhilarated, they hugged each other. But none of them were prepared for the might of the magical discharge that contact produced. Slowly, the Baphomet dissipated in the air. Snape tried to free himself, but Harry held him and pushed him against the wall. Harry seemed possessed by a supernatural force.

"Stop, Harry. This is getting out of control."

"No! Don't make me stop."

Harry didn't care. It wasn't fair. For six year the wizarding world had been preparing him to kill or die, denying him the affection of a family and putting in jeopardy - when not actually destroying - the lives of those he loved. And now he wasn't allowed to be with the person he desired. He wasn't allowed to live. It was clear that Severus thought like him, and desired him as well. So there was no reason for them to stop, he told himself. Desperately, he glued his lips to Severus'. The older wizard tried to push him away, but Harry grasped his hips and, moaning, pressed their bodies together, at the same time deepening the hot, brutal kiss. The magic waves surrounded them, multicoloured.

Once again Snape tried to escape, but Harry was much stronger than he, and dominated him, magically, physically and mentally. "Please, you must stop," he insisted. "I don't have the strength to resist, do you understand?"

"No, don't say that."

Harry rubbed his body against his teacher's rhythmically. Trying to increase the friction, Harry firmly grasped Severus' arse. The waves surrounding them began to acquire grey, sombre hues, but Harry didn't notice it. Neither did he notice that from a certain moment on Snape had stopped showing any reaction. Harry delved for another kiss. Out of his mind, he tried to open the countless buttons in Snape's robes. In the exact instant he started uttering a spell to get rid of the teacher's clothes at once, something very strange happened. Time seemed to stop and, slowly, Harry saw Snape pass out in his arms.

"Severus?"

He had to use all his strength to catch the teacher before he fell. Luckily, since they were in the Requirement Room, a hospital bed materialised under Snape's body.

"Severus, please, wake up!"

Pale as a ghost, Snape barely breathed.

Harry ran to the fireplace - which in fact hadn't been there before, and upon whose mantel he found the necessary amount of Floo powder -, and called the Headmaster's office.

"Harry, what happened?"

"Headmaster, Professor Snape has fainted. Could you please send Madam Pomfrey here to the Room of Requirement?"

"I'm on my way."

~*~

The Room of Requirement was completely transformed into an infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey found every single medicament she needed. "How has he got to this condition? The symptoms are those of someone who was submitted to the Imperius Curse for several hours."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with a concerned look.

Harry buried his face in his hands. "I... didn't mean it... I didn't know I could have an effect that powerful over him. He's the teacher, isn't he? I've always thought he was the strongest!"

"Poppy, I ask you utmost discretion about this matter," said Dumbledore. "It's a problem related to Magical Empathy. Professor Snape was submitted to a state of tension beyond his limits."

"Magical Empathy? By Merlin, when are you ever going to stop playing with fire?" Madam Pomfrey shook her head, displeased, and went after a potions cocktail to give her patient.

When he raised his head again, Harry found Dumbledore's merciless stare aimed at him. "I am very disappointed with you. Your reckless behaviour has put Professor Snape's life in jeopardy. I hope you are aware of the gravity of what you have done and that you will never let this happen again."

~*~

It was late night. Madam Pomfrey had already retired and left him watching over Severus. No, he wasn't leaving until Severus regained consciousness, until he could be sure Severus would be all right.

This time he had really messed it up. He had acted exactly like his father in his worst moments, hadn't he? So he could also be as hateful and despicable as James had been. He was unable to cast an Unforgivable, but he was so blind and selfish that he had almost succeeded in extinguishing the last breath of life from the one that had become the most important person in his life. He had acted like a rapist, completely disrespecting the other's will, imposing himself by force.

How could he apologise for something so profoundly wrong? It would be hardly a surprise if Severus decided never to see him again. As a matter of fact, from what Harry knew of Severus Snape, that was exactly what was going to happen.

So much for the dream of the Magical Empathy. At least none of them had become insane, had they? Or hadn't they? In fact, Harry was seriously planning to jump into the lake, without any gillyweed. It would be a nice way to end it all. Except that, with his luck, he might get rescued by the Giant Squid. Which could have been his father. Which _should_ have been his father. Yes, because if Lily Evans had kept her wits and married the Giant Squid instead of James Potter, all his problems would never have come to exist.

"If you were the Giant Squid's son, your brain would be much more usable, stupid boy."

"Severus! Finally..." Harry held his hand. "What..."

"Forget it. I'm not angry with you."

"What do you mean? After what I've done? Severus, I..."

"I already know what you are thinking. A load of rubbish, as always. Of course you are _not_ James Potter. It is rather strange that I must be the one to tell you that, after all that's happened!"

"You're not okay, are you? I'm gonna call Madam Pomfrey and..."

"I am perfectly fine. Stop this drama. It is all very simple. You are only sixteen and you are attaining a very high level of magic, and very fast. You are not used to that and can't control all that magic. Especially with the Magical Empathy in play."

"Sev... I don't deserve your comprehension. We have to stop the practice. This is all too dangerous."

"Nonsense. We are at an advanced level, it would be a waste to stop now. It's the most powerful weapon we have to defeat the Dark Lord."

"But I can't trust myself, and I don't want to risk your life."

"Once again, the hero syndrome. You still think you are special, don't you?"

"I'm calling Madam Pomfrey. And you need to rest. We'll talk later."

Snape groaned.


	13. No More Obedience Pay!

**CHAPTER 13 - No More Obedience Pay!**

_"Must generous tremble, &amp; leave his joy to the idle, to the pestilence,  
That mock him? who commanded this? what God? what Angel?  
To keep the gen'rous from experience till the ungenerous  
Are unrestrain'd performers of the energies of nature;  
Till pity is become a trade, and generosity a science  
That men get rich by; &amp; the sandy desert is giv'n to the strong?  
What God is he writes laws of peace &amp; clothes him in a tempest?  
What pitying Angel lusts for tears and fans himself with sighs?  
What crawling villain preaches abstinence &amp; wraps himself  
In fat of lambs? no more I follow, no more obedience pay!"_

(America, William Blake)

The following Wednesday, the last of May, the two of them returned to the Room of Requirement.

"I'm serious, I want to stop," Harry stated.

"It's almost June, Harry. I shouldn't do it, but your stubbornness forces me into a reprehensible act. I am going to reveal to you some ultra-secret information: the Dark Lord plans to attack Hogwarts by the end of the school year. We can't stop now."

"I'm sorry, Severus, but if you've been risking your life to get that kind of information... Everybody knows that Voldemort tries to kill me every June! Must be part of his biological cycle!"

"Once again you see yourself as the centre of the universe. He isn't going to attempt to kill _you_. He is going to attack Hogwarts."

"Then I'll go after him right now and challenge him to a life or death duel. This way no one else dies in this story."

Snape moaned. "Always the hero complex. I shouldn't have told you."

"I was going to read it in your mind anyway."

"Obviously. How could I have thought that the Golden Boy would act any differently? Of course you will do exactly whatever those hollow brains of yours tell you to do, as always. But think, for the first time in your life, think! Is that asking too much? Wouldn't it be wiser to make use of your time before the end of June and prepare yourself better for this duel?"

"And endanger your life? No way."

"Harry..."

A long silence filled the room. Harry kept his resolute, adamant stance. Snape seemed immersed in deep thought. Finally, he said, "Harry... You don't have to worry about jeopardising my mind. It won't happen... because I will resist no longer."

"Resist no longer..." Harry repeated, as if trying to comprehend the meaning of those words.

"Since you are the strongest, and since I... anyway, Harry, I can't say I trust you completely, since it's not in my nature to trust anyone completely, but now I know you well enough to know what to expect from you, and I think resisting is the worse option."

"But... I don't want you to choose between me and your job, between me and Dumbledore, between me and your dignity or your freedom. I don't want that."

"Don't you understand that none of that makes any difference now? If Hogwarts is destroyed, I won't have a job anymore. And Albus will fall along with Hogwarts. I might die in that battle, and then none of it will matter. But if I survive through it all and there is no Hogwarts, no Albus, no you, what would be the point? My life wouldn't have any meaning."

"I don't understand. Are you sacrificing yourself for us, is that it?"

Snape reached out for Harry and pulled him against his body. "Sacrificing myself? Harry... I want you. In every sense."

"Oh, Sev."

Harry hugged him; Severus squeezed him against himself and buried his chin on the crook of the boy's neck, speaking to him in a tone slightly louder than a whisper. "Running away from this is pointless now. Our hearts, our minds, our magic, they're perfectly attuned. It's insane to try to keep our bodies apart from all this. You saw what happened when I tried to resist. It wasn't your fault. When we reach a state of perfect integration, as we have, if the sexual desire is also present, it's a violent act against ourselves, in all senses, to keep our bodies apart from this. It's madness. And I'd rather lose my job, my reputation and even my freedom, than lose my sanity."

Harry raised his head to look at him. "The wizarding world authorises us to kill or die. It authorises us even to lose our sanity. The one thing we can't do is to make love and be happy, right? But are you sure you'll want to go against everything and everyone?"

"I'm sure," said Snape, rolling his eyes. "Let's reinforce the wards. I don't know if we'll be able to keep Albus away. Alone, I never succeeded. But with our joint magic, who knows..."

They cast several spells to strengthen the wards, and also Shielding Charms. Throughout the whole operation, their minds remained in sync with each other.

The Room of Requirement also reacted in sync with their wishes. Suddenly, they found themselves before a Victorian king-size four poster highback bed made of walnut, with double bevelled arched burl panels; a sapphire blue velvet duvet cover (blue because it couldn't be either green or red) and pillow covers matching.

"Nox," said Severus, causing the room to be lit only by a vintage lamp strategically placed on an equally Victorian bedside table. Then he pulled Harry to him again. "Where were we?"

Harry put his arms around Snape's neck and stood on his toes to capture his lips again. Snape grabbed him firmly with both arms and pushed him onto the bed, lying down on him. Then he broke the kiss and gazed at Harry with a predatory look, but trying to hold himself back. "Are you sure, Harry, that this is what you want?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever done this before?"

"Er... no."

Snape took a deep breath. "Then... let's do it slowly. With the Magical Empathy, this experience might be too intense for both of us. We'd better get gradually used to it... to each other... and to the effects of the Magical Empathy. We will learn together, Harry."

The look Harry gave him in that moment made him feel a chill in his stomach. He brushed his knuckles on the boy's face, then made him open his legs so he could nestle there, softly pressing his rigid, erect cock. He too was already hard as a rock. The magical waves surrounded them, flowing from one to the other.

"Oh! This is so good... Won't you take all these clothes off?" Harry started to unbutton the collar of Snape's clothes.

"Ah... You'll have to be patient. This might take hours..." he said, seeing that the boy was desperately trying to speed up the process.

Lust won over sadistic instinct though, and Snape decided to help him. He took off his own shoes first, then Harry's. Kneeling on the sapphire blue duvet, they started dealing with the endless series of buttons. When their hands met, a brief magical spark would light up.

They managed to get rid of the robes, and found more buttons. Snape stopped Harry in order to undress him from his robes, tee shirt and trousers first, leaving him only in his underwear. The sight of the teenage body made Snape's heart stop beating for an instant. That was Harry Potter, and he was going to be... his. When would Severus Snape have imagined such a thing?

He hugged Harry tight, fondling his back with greedy hands, and again glued his lips to the boy's. At the same time, Harry fought frenziedly against the buttons of the shirt. When they broke the kiss, Harry managed at last to take it off, revealing finely outlined muscles and, among many weaker scars spread throughout the body, the Dark Mark.

Snape tried to read the emotions reflected in the boy's eyes, fearing rejection. But Harry's eyes only mirrored a desire that grew stronger and stronger, and also deep reverence. "The Mark... doesn't it scare you?"

"No. May I touch it?"

Snape showed him the arm. "There was a time when I wanted to rip it off. I couldn't think of it as a part of my body."

Harry lightly ran his fingers over the mark of the skull with the snake. Snape shuddered. The magical discharge intensified. Harry lowered his head and placed a kiss on the mark. "For me, it _is_ a part of you. When I first met you, you already had it. And your history is part of what you are."

"I know, but that wasn't a very pleasant thought for me."

"And now?"

"Now? Now you are here. And that is all that matters."

Finally, Snape got rid of the black trousers. The charcoal-grey boxers followed the same path, exposing the already erect cock. Harry's gaze showed both fascination and shyness. Snape took off the boy's glasses and laid them on the bedside table. Then he pushed Harry to make him lie on the bed again. Carefully, he pulled off the boy's briefs. He lay on Harry's body then, taking care not to crush him with his weight.

The magic waves flowed incessantly, creating multicoloured effects, and it was as if there were no longer barriers between their thoughts. Consequently, a strange thing began to happen: one felt in his own body whatever the other felt, magnifying the desire and the pleasure.

Snape's warm hand closed around Harry's even warmer cock.

"Oh, Sev. So good," said Harry, who returned the gesture, wrapping his partner's member completely in his hand.

For a moment, Snape stopped breathing. When he managed to inhale again, he brushed the fingers of his other hand on Harry's shoulders, ribs and hips, then on the smooth skin of his thighs and, finally, his tender bottom. At the same time, he covered Harry's neck with light bites. Next, he turned his attention to the boy's chest, capturing a nipple in his mouth, licking it, biting it, softly blowing on it. Each gesture was reflected in his own body, driving him crazy.

"Oh!" was everything Harry could say, squirming, arching in his direction.

Snape marvelled at how responsive Harry was, how he reacted to each caress. How his cock was so smooth and hard. Snape pressed his cock against his lover's, holding them together. Harry's answer, rubbing rhythmically against him, caused the rush of lust that invaded him to become stronger than anything he had ever felt, as their combined magic magnified the sensations to the maximum. His body burned and twitched with pleasure. It was actually scary to feel such ecstasy just by rubbing their bodies against each other.

"Duelling wands," said Harry, a silly smile in his lips.

"Ahn, Harry, that's too much of a cliché. The worst part is that we're going to come together. We just can't help it."

Harry almost couldn't articulate his words anymore. "You're not... romantic... at all."

With a moan, Snape captured his lips once more and, sucking at his tongue, let himself be dragged closer and closer to the vortex of passion and magic. Their erections rubbed together in a rhythm that became more intense by the minute.

"Severus," Harry murmured when their lips parted.

Hearing his name uttered like that by his lover, Severus at last succumbed to the vortex. In his violent, longstanding climax, he also uttered the name of his lover. "Harry..."

Feeling Harry's body shake against his in an equally overwhelming climax magnified the emotions to an almost unbearable level.

~*~

For a long while they remained in each other's arms, staring at the ceiling, having fun by projecting on it a starry sky, with comets and nebulas.

"Come under the blankets," said Snape, after casting a spell to clean the semen off their bodies and the duvet. "Will anyone notice if you don't go back to your dormitory?"

"Of course they will. Ron's gonna be worried, he might go warn McGonagall."

"McGonagall will then talk to Albus, and Albus knows we're here."

"I want to stay here and sleep with you," said Harry, cuddling up to his lover's body.

Snape stared at him, momentarily speechless. That was madness, but what wasn't madness between the two of them? "Wait. I'll talk to Albus."

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Silly boy, only now you have noticed it? Help me bring down the wards so I can call him with the Floo powder."

Shaking his head, Harry put on his glasses and obeyed. Snape hastily pulled on his robes - and the robes only -, making a mess of the buttons. And he tossed Harry his own robe, so he would also get dressed. Then, he went to the fireplace that had just popped up in the room. Harry, already in his robes, came closer, and they threw the Floo Powder. Their heads delved into the green flame maelstrom, emerging in the Headmaster's office.

"Severus! Harry! Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Your magic is overflowing! And the magical charge in that room would be enough to demolish Hogwarts if you hadn't isolated it!"

"I know. Albus, we should spend the night here. We can't get out with this level of magic. We need to... discharge."

"I see..."

"Please, think of an excuse and warn Minerva. And ask her to tell Weasley that... I don't know, that Potter is in an important mission or something like that, and that he shouldn't prowl around doing stupid things."

"All right. Take care, boys. Sweet dreams," Albus wished them in a slightly ironic tone.

Snape huffed, and their heads returned to the Room of Requirement.

"He knows." Harry's eyes were wide. "He knows, Sev! And he didn't say a word!"

"Perhaps all this was in his plans from the start," Snape noted, sarcastic. "But don't worry about this now. Let's reinstall the wards, shall we?"

~*~

They got rid of their robes once more, this time without any rituals, and returned to under the duvet, snuggling in each other's arms.

"So you only got closer to me because Dumbledore told you to, right?"

"That's obvious. I don't know why you ask. You can wander freely inside my mind!"

"It's the same way with magic, isn't it? There aren't barriers between us anymore. Sev... will it always be like this, when we are together? Will we always feel what the other feels too?"

"Did you like it? A bit confusing, wasn't it? Uncontrollable. It will get better. We will learn to control it, to direct what we want to share and what we don't."

"Better yet? Oh." Harry's cock gave new sign of life.

Severus raised his head and stared at him. "Ah, the wonders of being sixteen. And I'm doomed to feel the same!"

"Poor Severus," said Harry, rubbing against him.

Severus' tongue outlined his ear, then focused on the earlobe. Harry wiggled.

"Sev... I wanna hear you say what I'm reading in your mind now. I wanna hear your voice..."

Severus lay between Harry's legs like he had in the first time and, always keeping the friction, whispered in his ear, "Harry... Up until now, sex had always been but a weapon for me, a weapon I used against others or that was used against me. I had never made love to anyone. You are my first true lover. I want to drive you crazy with pleasure."

Severus licked down his neck, a nipple then the other, and moved on down to the smooth, almost hairless chest, following the line through the navel to the spot where the first dark hairs appeared.

"Oh! Please..." Harry moaned.

"Now it's your turn. Tell me what you want."

"I want... your mouth."

"My mouth... where?" asked Severus, tormenting him.

Harry grasped his head by the hairs and pushed him down to his erect sex. "Here."

Severus lowered his head and brushed his face against the hard cock. He held Harry's testicles in both his hands, tenderly caressing the perineum with his thumbs. Harry panted and his entire body arched toward his lover.

"Try to be more precise. I want to hear the words."

"You sadistic tease! I. Want. Your. Mouth. On. My. Cock."

Finally, Severus opened his mouth and slowly licked the head. Harry's scent and taste invaded him as he felt in his own body the mirroring of his caresses on his young lover's body. That was Harry, his Harry. The most exquisite potion he had ever tasted.

He licked that cock in its full length, making Harry squirm, out of control. Then, returning to its head, he outlined it with his tongue. He moaned along with Harry, since all those sensations went back to him. Fighting to regain control, he took his lover's cock in his mouth, swallowing it whole. He licked and sucked, sliding his lips and tongue all over the length. One of his hands now pumped his own cock, while the other went on massaging Harry's perineum. Snape slowly slid up to the head, sucking it, and then ran down to the base, wrapping it in heat and moisture. The boy clutched the duvet hard.

"Sev... I'm gonna come."

Snape squeezed his hips tight as his own cock pulsated, on the verge of climaxing. "I know," he said, his voice throaty.

The waves of pleasure and magic merged and dominated them, consuming them completely.

They fell asleep in each other's arms.

~*~

Meanwhile, in Snape's office, the scrying mirror displayed incredibly clear images of a dense forest where a den was hidden. Before its entrance, the Grail appeared, resplendent. Severus and Harry moved toward it.

The Grail didn't ask them anything - the question wasn't necessary, as Severus and Harry already knew the answer. They held the Grail and, always together, drank the enchanted wine it contained.

THE END (sequel: "Baphomet II")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [**Here**](http://ptyx.noigandres.com/baph_ing.html) you can see the amazing fanarts created by Snaples and Ebonyserpent for "Baphomet".


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